Visions Of The Things To Be: ATC of GFA
by trek-grrrl
Summary: C,M POV of post4077th life, first year. This story is going to end with that special surprise from A Major Surprise. More First Year fics coming soon. Frank's next. Thanks to my readers and reviewers! COMPLETE.
1. Home to Boston

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell, Amen" 

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter One. Home to Boston.

Charles held his hand over his heart as he watched Margaret drive off, waving to him. They locked gazes as long as they could until her jeep drove around the bend, out of sight.

He'd told her to get packed and be ready to leave when the first transport became available. The Army wanted to withdraw the women as soon as possible, which suited Charles well. He couldn't bear the thought of something unexpected to occur while his pregnant fiancee was still at the camp.

He had already called "their hotel" that they'd had in Tokyo over the July 4th holiday, to make arrangements for their arrival. She would wait there for him, and from there they would be (finally!) flying home to Boston by way of Honolulu, Seattle and Chicago.

Concerned for Margaret's condition, Charles had booked two airline tickets for their journey to Boston, foregoing the military transport they could have used instead. Another benefit of paying their fare home was that they did not have to wait until they could get passage on the next transport plane out of Japan. Commercial was so much easier and less fraught with complications and delays, after all.

Charles took a deep calming breath to soothe his agitation and excitement. He was agitated at seeing her leave, without him there to protect her during this chaotic transition between war and peace, yet also excited about the prospect of going home and introducing Margaret to his world.

He'd already contacted Honoria when the armistice had been declared official. He was pleased to hear that his parents were out of the country, enjoying a summer vacation in Europe. They were not expected to return for another two weeks. He wasn't entirely sure what going from the war zone of Korea back to genteel Boston society would have been like with the added tension of his parents meeting Margaret. Having that buffer of two weeks, with just Margaret, Honoria and himself at the mansion, was infinitely preferable.

By the time Mother and Father returned, he and Margaret would both be well into their wedding arrangements and relatively settled in. More importantly, he thought, Margaret will have had a chance to become more assured in her new surroundings and lifestyle. He was confident Honoria would understand and help her get settled in to what it would mean to be a part of the Winchester family.

Later, when Charles learned of his own "unique" transport out of Korea, he had to smile. It was apropos that he'd leave this garbage heap in a garbage truck, Sgt. Rizzo grumbling the usual bayou nonsense in his ear. As Charles looked at the camp for the very last time, he decided it had not been all bad. He'd saved lives, made lifetime friends, and met the love of his life and the mother of his child.

He pointed forward. "To Kenpo, Rizzo, and don't spare the horses!" he yelled gleefully.

Hours later, he was back in Tokyo, travel bag in hand. He'd sent their luggage on to the airport to be stored until their flight the following afternoon.

The hotel clerk handed him his key. "Here you are, Dr. Winchester. Please let us know if we may be of any assistance to you."

Charles was outside the door to their suite, listening. He heard nothing. Probably asleep, he hoped. He very carefully opened the door and looked around. He found her curled up under a light blanket in the bedroom suite, snoring softly.

His heart gave a startling thump as he knelt by her side, watching her sleep. He wanted so very much to touch her, caress her soft platinum hair and see her beautiful blue eyes, but he didn't want to disturb her very-important sleep. She was now almost two months along in her pregnancy. The fatigue caused by her condition, combined with the arduous trip from Oijongbu to Tokyo, had surely exhausted her. He would leave her be and let her sleep as long as she possibly could.

He quietly returned to the living area and carefully closed the door to their bedroom. He sat down at the desk and opened his briefcase. This would be an excellent time for him to go over their various papers, letters he'd kept with him from home and other documents.

He'd become so engrossed in his work that two hours later, when Margaret opened the bedroom door, he jumped back, startled.

"Darling!" she exclaimed, running to him.

He took her into his arms where he'd longed to have her these many hours, and they stood there, simply holding one another for a time.

They separated enough to enjoy a deep, passionate kiss.

Charles wrapped his arms over her shoulders once more, relieved to be with her once again. "Oh, my love, when you were waving goodbye, I had such fear that I would never see you again during this chaotic time! It was agony to be separated from you!"

She sighed into his chest, feeling safe and secure in his enfolding arms, taking in the scent of him as she loved to do. "I forced myself to think about what lies ahead, flying to Boston and meeting Honoria for starters."

Mention of his sister made Charles leave off the thoughts on "what might have been" and think ahead to their arrival in Boston. He smiled down at her. "Are you nervous about meeting Honoria, Margaret?"

She laughed, "Yes, a little, because I know how important she is to you."

"She is a dear, Margaret, and I'm hoping you two will hit it off. But, of course, I cannot force anything. You'll see. She's utterly charming and quite well-versed in a variety of topics."

"What does she do?"

"Do?"

"Yes, 'do,' as in work? Career?"

"Oh, well," he said, pausing. He thought a moment. What DOES she do? he wondered. "Primarily, she works for Winchester Foundation functions, helping Mother organize events and charities, fund-raising balls, such as that."

"She went to college?"

"Of course she did."

"What did she major in?"

"English literature."

Margaret paused and considered her next question.

Charles felt a little uncomfortable with Margaret's interrogation about his sister. Seeing Honoria from Margaret's point of view disturbed him. He imagined Margaret thought such a role, for a young adult woman, was a waste of time and material. Margaret had been active in a work and career life before she turned eighteen, and had immediately started Nursing School and pursuing her own impressive military career.

"She does more than that, Margaret. Because she does not NEED to work, she fills her days and weeks with a lot of volunteering. For example, she works in various nearby libraries, helping them with their collections of classical literature and music."

Margaret could tell Charles was getting upset, and defensive, about her questioning. She had a little sister herself, but not nearly as close a relationship as he enjoyed with Honoria. She wisely decided to put additional queries on hold for later.

She smiled up at him. "I see. And she's very fortunate to have a big brother who cares so much about her."

"Yes, she is," he smiled back, kissing Margaret lightly on the mouth to halt any further questions for now. She'd have plenty of time to learn more about his sister once they got to Boston.

"Did you rest well, Margaret? Would you like to go out somewhere for dinner tonight, or stay in and order room service? It's entirely up to you!"

She moved in closer to him, rubbing her hands over his chest and shoulders, looking up into his blue eyes. "I rested just fine. Considering we'll be starting the very long process of getting home tomorrow, I thought we could order in and," she paused, looking significantly toward the bedroom, "take advantage of those nice long hot showers again!"

He snuggled his lips on the tender nape of her neck, and muttered, "And that lovely king-sized bed!"

Charles held Margaret on his lap as she slept. They had been traveling for well over a day now. They were on the final leg of their journey, Chicago to Boston. When they boarded, he was pleased to see the First Class section was equipped with extra-wide seats, so Margaret could comfortably nap one more time before they arrived at Logan Airport. She slept more soundly in his arms they learned early in this anfractuous journey, so as soon as she showed signs of fatigue he'd pulled her into his lap to sleep.

He leaned his head back, gazing out the window at the darkly moonlit clouds. He checked his watch once again, happily set to Boston time. He'd despaired at ever seeing this day, this hour, and it had finally arrived. He was going home.

The flight from Chicago to Boston was blessedly the shortest portion of their itinerary, and soon, to Charles' perspective, the announcement of final approach had been made. He awoke Margaret, and she took the chance to use the rest room one more time before they had to fasten their seatbelts.

She freshened up and returned quickly, and they got settled in for the landing. Charles' heart was racing in anticipation of seeing Honoria and Boston again after two years in Japan and Korea. The final seconds, as they descended to the tarmac, were the longest yet.

"Almost there, darling, and Honoria will be there waiting!"

His eyes were so happy and full of excitement, she couldn't help but laugh in response. "Yes, we're almost there!"

He looked out the window as the Boston cityscape became partly visible. He sighed happily, overjoyed to see his city again. Tokyo was nice, but he loved Boston. He couldn't WAIT to give Margaret the grand tour of the city, Cape Cod, the Vineyard, Massachusetts and all of New England. There would be plenty of time for that once she got to know Boston well!

The plane had finished taxiing to the main terminal, the gangway had been set in place, and the two waited in line to exit. Charles had to keep from running across the short distance of tarmac to the waiting area when he spied his tall sister standing on tip-toe, looking for her big brother and his lady.

"Margaret, there she is, come ON!" He had to force his long legs to slow down, to keep from running ahead of her.

She laughed, and waved him on. "I'll see where you go, you go on ahead!"

Charles gave her a quick kiss and ran as fast as he could with two carry-on bags. As he separated from the crowd, Honoria spotted him.

"CHARLES!" she yelled, waving furiously.

Margaret saw a tall, slender woman with shoulder-length, soft brown hair. She was wearing a lovely navy blue and white dress with tastefully matched accessories. Margaret smiled as she saw Charles drop their bags and pick up his little sister, both with arms wrapped tightly around one another's necks. He swung her around, and she was laughing and crying at the same time.

"Oh, Ch-charles, I am s-s-so very happy to s-s-see you!" she said in his ear, the tears streaming down her face. She had her big brother back, alive and well after the ordeal he'd endured for two years.

He held the back of her head and snuggled against her neck like he used to do when she was a toddler, and he was trying to get her to laugh. "I know, dear sister, I know." He was so overwhelmed that he let his own tears fall, not caring if anyone saw. He was home, safe and alive, and he was with his sister once more.

He heard Margaret clearing her throat behind him. He released his sister, keeping one arm around her thin shoulders, and wiped the residual tears from his eyes and cheeks. He held out his other hand to Margaret, drawing her to them.

"Honoria, I'd like you to meet Margaret Houlihan."


	2. The Winchester Estate

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell, Amen."

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Two. The Winchester Estate.  
The First Weekend Home.

The initial greeting and welcome from Honoria had been more comfortable than Margaret had imagined. Charles' younger sister was exactly as he'd described: quite charming and articulate. Margaret watched Charles and his sister talk during the limousine ride to the Winchester home.

Margaret could've sworn Charles had told her that Honoria spoke with a stutter; except for a few times, Margaret didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Those few times were upon their initial reunion and meeting; now she sounded perfectly normal.

Charles began to look curiously at his sister as the trip proceeded. He finally had to ask.

"Honoria, your speech..." he paused.

She raised her eyebrows in amusement, knowing what her brother wanted to ask. She laughed out loud, patting his hand. "You w-won't believe this, Charles." She paused, taking a calming breath, and resumed. "I found a new form of speech therapy that incorporates a state of mild hypnosis. That is why I seem so calm, and took my calming breath. I stutter when I get highly emotional, but if I remain calm and concentrate, I speak as normal as you or anyone else."

"So you are hypnotized all the time?" He doubted the veracity of that.

"No, the initial therapy trains you via mild hypnosis, to use one's calming breath as you saw me do. Now that I have mastered that technique, I do not need the hypnosis therapy, only the controlled breathing."

"Excellent! You really sound marvelous, Honoria."

"I wanted to s-surprise you, which is why I didn't mention it in my letters to you."

"That's grand, Honoria, just grand!" He stifled a yawn. It was so dark, he could not discern their surroundings, now that they had reached the beautiful Massachusetts countryside on the outskirts of Boston.

Margaret had been looking out the window, listening to the siblings' chatter.

"Margaret? Are you all right?" Charles asked.

"Just very, very tired, Charles." She looked at him significantly. He understood. They had not told Honoria yet that Margaret was pregnant. Charles wasn't going to hide it, but they'd agreed that their first day or night back they would rest and get settled in, then break the news to Honoria before their parents got home.

Honoria looked closely at Margaret. "You do look tired, dear. You two have been traveling for well over a day?"

Charles looked at his watch, which had been set to show the lapse in travel time. "According to this, we left Tokyo 32 hours and 19 minutes ago. That is not even counting our separate journeys from the 4077th to Kenpo then on to Tokyo."

Mention of the 4077th suddenly put Margaret and Charles both in a strange, subdued mood that Honoria picked up on. Her brother and his fiancee suddenly went quiet, staring out the windows. Honoria didn't say anything for a few minutes, merely sat and looked out the window past Charles.

She finally said, "It must be unusual and a shock to you, Charles. One moment you're at your unit in Korea, the next moment you're almost home at the estate. You haven't had much transition time, have you?"

She took her brother's big hand into hers and watched him as he remained silent.

She said quietly, "I cannot imagine what these two years have been like for you, Charles. I tried, when I'd read your letters, to discern what your world was like there, and it eluded me. When you joined the service, you thought you'd simply work as a surgeon in Japan, not realizing you'd be called to a mobile unit to work on that critically wounded doctor. And certainly not expecting to be ASSIGNED there, near the front lines."

She paused, trying to picture what it would look like, her big brother in battle fatigues, going to the Battalion Aide station as he'd described, bombs and gunfire all around. She quailed thinking about the danger he had been in. It was too much out of her paradigm, and she took one of her calming breaths.

Margaret looked from Charles to Honoria, opposite her. She'd taken the smaller seat that faced the back of the large limousine, so that Charles could sit next to his sister. She knew what Charles was thinking about: those last days when the POWs he had worked with had been taken away, only to be shelled soon after leaving, the flutist killed instantly. Charles had felt that chest wound as if it had been his own heart dying, the love of music, of Mozart, dying along with the gentle Chinese musician.

The melancholy mood passed through all three of them. Margaret was trying to think of something to cheer them up, but was unable to, she was so exhausted.

Charles shattered the mood with a moan and a sudden realization. He turned to his sister. "Is there going to be a crowd at home when we get there?"

She laughed, "No, I told everyone you would be arriving on Saturday. You have tonight, tomorrow and most of Saturday before the deluge begins."

He sighed, sinking back into the luxurious seat. "Thank God, Honoria, and thank you for thinking of that. I do not think Margaret and I could stand a big reception after traveling so long."

The car turned from the main road, to start down the long lane leading to the estate. Charles leaned his long arms across and took Margaret's hand, smiling.

"We are almost there, darling. Are you nervous?"

She smiled tiredly at him. "No, not really. I'm too numb and tired to be nervous. Let me lean on you when we get there and you can throw me into the nearest bed."

Honoria laughed; she wasn't used to such speech and mannerisms as Margaret displayed. It was quite refreshing, and she found her brother's fiancee very charming. Charles smirked at his sister and winked. He'd told her that she would like Margaret!

"W-we won't have to throw you, Margaret. Your bedroom suite has already been prepared, next door to mine. CHARLES' room is on the other end of the mansion," she added significantly.

Charles coughed, stifling a laugh. He was wondering when this would come up, the question of where Margaret was going to sleep at the mansion. He wasn't prepared to talk to his sister about it tonight. Tomorrow would suffice, when he would inform his LITTLE sister the way it was going to be, at least until their parents arrived from Europe.

Margaret smiled at the two. This is going to be interesting, she thought.

A few minutes later, and they were still driving slowly up the long country lane.

"Just how far IS this mansion from the road, Charles?" she asked.

He thought a moment. "I'd say about 1 1/2 miles."

"WHAT?"

Honoria laughed. "It is a rather large estate, Margaret. We have been driving along the Winchester property for quite some time before we turned up the drive."

"Oh. I guess I never realized, Charles never really said much about the estate itself."

She looked out the window once more, into the complete darkness. She had no perspective on how fast they were traveling. She considered the immense size of the property, and turned to Charles.

"Why did you become a doctor? It's not like you needed to."

He shrugged and held out his hands. "Actually, I did need to." He left it at that.

She looked at his hands, that he'd placed comfortably back on his lap and travel bag. He was right. With his skill and talent as a surgeon, and obviously his drive to become one, it was a need. She was glad, or else they would never have met.

After an eternity, they finally pulled up to the front of a huge old New England style mansion. The driver came around to Honoria's and Margaret's side and opened the door, helping each lady out. Charles followed behind them both, not waiting for his door to be opened. He didn't feel the need for such formality as he had expected prior to going overseas. He was merely happy to be home.

He stopped and looked at the house in which he was raised. He turned to Margaret and Honoria.

"You ready, dear?" he asked Margaret, whose eyes were wide, looking around.

She nodded her head yes, and absently took his arm. She was so tired she wasn't sure if she could walk on her own. They followed Honoria into the foyer.

The house staff was there to greet the Winchester son home. He stopped and greeted each one, recognizing them all. It was as if he'd not been gone for two years, as he smiled at the familiar faces, shaking hands with them as he went by. When he got to the end of the line, he turned to face them all.

"Thank you so much, everyone, for being here to greet me. I cannot tell you how happy I am to see your familiar faces!" He turned and brought Margaret shyly forward.

"I would like you all to be acquainted with my fiancee, Major Margaret Houlihan. She was the Head Nurse at the hospital unit to which I was assigned in Korea."

The staff greeted her kindly and she smiled back, remaining quiet.

"Honoria has informed me that Margaret's suite has already been prepared, so if you will all excuse us, I am going to get her settled into her bedroom and retire to my room shortly. We have had a very trying two days and must rest."

He turned from them, essentially dismissing them to their tasks.

He motioned to the wide staircase. "This way, Margaret."

He opened the door near his sister's suite, and Margaret walked in, amazed as she initially had been by the hotel suite in Tokyo. The huge bed had been laid out in a lovely rose-colored set. A soft robe was set on the back of a huge easy chair by a vanity table, set with all the personal items she might require.

She calmed herself before turning to Charles. She had to start getting used to this!

"It's lovely, Charles. Let me get changed into my nightgown, hang on a minute."

She ran into the bathroom with her bag and quickly changed. He was sitting in the chair, staring out the huge window that looked out on the night.

A moment later she emerged and he turned her covers, settling her in comfortably.

He kissed her on the forehead, brushing the hair back from her eyes. He smiled tenderly down at her. "Sleep, my love, as long as you have to. We have two glorious days and nights before the circus begins. You must get all the rest you can."

She smiled up at him, her eyelids drooping. Within seconds, she was asleep.

Margaret awoke to the low morning sun streaming through the lacey curtains of the big window. Charles was sitting in the chair, gazing out the window at the lovely scenery, when he heard her stirrings.

He smiled as he stood and went to her, kneeling on the floor by her side. "Did you sleep comfortably, my love?"

She smiled, stretching. "Yes, Charles, quite comfortably!"

She sat up, and suddenly her expression changed. She ran into the bathroom to be ill. Charles ran after her.

He held her sides as she vomited, feeling helpless to do anything. When she was done, he handed her travel kit to her when she motioned to him. She freshened up and brushed her hair, feeling a little better.

"No use griping to a doctor about this, I guess. You know the score."

He sighed. "Yes, as do you."

"I only hope it's the first trimester, as happens with most women. I've heard some women are sick their entire pregnancies!" That did not bear thinking about!

"When I report to work on Monday, one of the first things I'll do is find the best obstetrician in Boston for you, my love." He kissed her cheek and walked back to the bed with her.

He waited for her to get dressed, and they went to her bedroom door. When he opened it for her, Honoria was standing there, frowning at her brother.

"Well?" she asked, pretending to be angry at them.

Charles laughed and kissed her on the cheek. "Good morning, sister."

"And what are you doing in there, Charles?"

"Waiting for Margaret to dress for breakfast, that's what." He pushed past his sister, pulling Margaret behind him, and went to the long staircase.

Honoria ran after them. "Wait, Ch-charles, I was talking to you!"

He laughed and continued to the dining room. It hadn't taken the two long to get back in their big brother/little sister roles, her making demands on him and him disregarding such demands.

She continued to harangue Charles, trying to get him to stop and pay attention to her. He and Margaret reached the dining area, where a variety of food had been placed out.

Ah, his first meal home. Every breakfast item he could have possibly wanted. Margaret took one look and went to the end of the long table, as far from the sight and smell of food as she could.

He said, "Margaret, it's hardly mess tent food. Come pick out what you'd like and eat."

"I can't, Charles, the sight, the smell..." she covered her mouth, taking a cleansing breath. "If you could get me some dry toast, and a cup of tea, I think that's all I can handle."

Honoria approached her from the doorway in which she'd been standing, watching her brother and Margaret.

"Are you all right, Margaret?"

Charles looked at the two, and turned to the house staff in the room. He motioned his head to the door, silently asking them to leave. They left.

"Honoria, come, sit," he motioned to the chair opposite Margaret.

After his sister sat down, Charles faced her. "Do you remember the letter I wrote to you on June 1st, about how I was going to ask Margaret to marry me?"

"Yes, of course. She's got her lovely diamond ring on now."

"I mention it as a reminder to you that I had intended to marry her now for several weeks. Margaret is...," he paused. He looked at Margaret, then back to Honoria. "Margaret has morning sickness, Honoria."

Honoria laughed. "That's impossible, that would m-mean sh-she's..." and she trailed off, looking from one to the other. "You're PREGNANT?"

Margaret smiled. "Yes, about two months we estimate."

"OH!" She stood up, smiling as she ran to Charles to hug him, then turn to Margaret. "Ch-charles, th-that's..." She paused again, taking her calming breath. She took another for good measure.

"That's WONDERFUL! That's why you reminded me of the date of the letter, so I would know you had already intended on asking her to marry you!"

"Yes. In fact, I do believe it was the night and morning I mentioned in that letter that brings us to where we are now," he said, winking at Margaret. She blushed, remembering their first time together. "I had already decided long before then that I wanted Margaret with me for the rest of my life."

Honoria sat back down. "How do you think Mother and F-father will take this?"

Charles took his seat as well. "I honestly do not know, Honoria. Regardless, Margaret and I are marrying. My honor has been intact the entire time. She and I had already declared our love for one another, in front of my bunkmates and everyone in the OR, so it was hardly a fling or one-night stand. She and I definitely want this child."

His sister looked between the two again, and knew it was true. She was so happy that Charles had found someone that knew him so well. She knew they'd been friends and colleagues for many months. Honoria sat back in her chair, smiling. "I'm going to be an AUNT finally!"

Charles smiled at her realization. "Yes, I told Margaret I could not wait to tell you, that you'd be so excited about having your first niece or nephew."

"First? So you hope to have more?"

"We are not entirely sure. We'll see."

The three settled into eating their breakfasts. Margaret didn't mind their food being near her, it was only the heavily-laden serving table, with all the smells and sights combined, that had nauseated her. She nibbled on her dry toast, following it with sips of tea. She would try some fruit later on, knowing she had to get nutritious food into her. The fresh fruit looked lovely, after the fare she usually got at the 4077th.

Honoria began asking Margaret about her life, where she was born, where she was raised. The three talked companionably for almost an hour, taking their time over breakfast. Charles paced himself, not being used to such variety and quantity as this. He'd lost weight since joining the 4077th and wanted to avoid putting it back on.

"Oh, Margaret, wait until late September, when the colors begin to change! Nowhere on Earth is as beautiful as New England in the Autumn!"

Charles smiled in anticipation. "Yes, I am looking forward to a drive through the country when that time comes, to show Margaret more of this lovely land."

When Margaret had mentioned being born on an Army base in California, Honoria felt it necessary to tell her about REAL civilization: New England.

After a time, Margaret finally spoke up. "I was born in California, yes, but I have ties to New England myself."

Charles raised his eyebrows, amazed. "You DO? Where?"

"Connecticut. My mother was born in Hartford."

"Margaret, I never knew. What was your mother's maiden name?" He was wondering how they'd broach the subject of Margaret's lineage. It was very important to Charles, but he suspected if he'd started querying her about it, Margaret would feel like he was judging her worthiness to join his family. He knew Margaret's moods well enough, having witnessed how quickly she can go from being happy and carefree, to raging like a fury.

"Spencer. I remember as a child visiting Hartford, to see Grandma Spencer on Gregory Hill in Hartford. She had the most amazing collection of antique porcelain dolls, and... she... would..." she trailed off, looking at Charles and Honoria.

The two had stopped listening when they'd heard "Spencer" and "Gregory Hill." They stared at one another, and Margaret saw a slow smile spread across Charles' face, expanding until he began laughing, pounding on the table with glee. Honoria gave a dramatic swoon, wiping her brow and collapsing to the back of her chair once more, also laughing.

Margaret scowled at them both, rapidly becoming annoyed. "Charles?" she asked dangerously.

He straightened up, trying to talk without chuckling. "M-margaret, do you know what this means?"

"No, of course not, what's so funny about my Grandma Spencer?" She was not amused, and made it clear that an explanation better be forthcoming, and soon.

He went to her side, bowing on one knee, and took her hand, smiling up at her. "Margaret, you know how very important family is to me, right?"

"Yes, I do."

"What you just told me assures me that Mother and Father will NEVER have a problem with you marrying me!"

"How is that?"

"The SPENCERS! Especially the Spencers of Gregory Hill. Do you not know your family's history there?"

"I thought I did."

"That family comes of a noble line in England. They came to the new world in the 1600's, landing in Springfield, and settling in Hartford. Gregory Hill has been named thus since that time! The Winchester family will be most pleased to be connected to the Spencer family. Do you keep in touch with your mother's family, since she passed away?"

She frowned, thinking. "Not since I went to the 4077th, but it wouldn't be hard to contact them. There are many Spencers in that area, after all. I believe my mother's cousin inherited the house when Grandma Spencer passed away."

"We must send them an invitation!"

Margaret sat back, still scowling. She wasn't sure what she thought of this. Does that mean his parents would not have accepted her otherwise, except for an accident of birth? She folded her arms, staring forward at the table, not saying anything.

Uh oh, Charles thought. He was waiting for it.

Margaret stood up, pacing back and forth. "So your PARENTS will accept me because of who my grandmother was, NOT because you and I love one another dearly and I'm carrying THEIR grandchild?"

He motioned for her to lower her voice. "Margaret, PLEASE!" he said in a stage whisper. "The HELP!"

"SCREW the help, Charles! I can't believe you just SAID that!"

He stood in front of her, stopping her pacing. She began to brush past him, and he grabbed her arm. "Margaret, we are NOT in Korea any longer, when we are HERE, in my HOME, we need to follow certain rules. And one of those rules is we DON'T SHOUT SO LOUD THAT THE HELP HEARS US!"

By the time he'd finished his tirade, his face was in hers and they were almost nose to nose.

"HA! I knew it! You DO want me to change! Well, this is me, buster, I'm not anything I wasn't back at the 4077th! You knew my temper then and you know it now! Get used to it! Tell 'the help' to get used to it."

She turned to Honoria, who had remained sitting back, arms folded, watching the show. She had an amused smile on her face. Margaret smiled back, then yelled, "And YOU get used to it too!"

Honoria laughed. "I shall. It's already sinking in, Margaret."

His sister's laughter broke the angry spell, and Charles laughed as well, no longer upset.

Margaret turned back to Charles. "I happen to be proud of MY family too, buster! I'm a HOULIHAN and proud of it! My ancestors came to America to build a new life out of hard work, and they did a good job of it! My dad didn't earn the nickname of Howitzer Hal from being civil and genteel in battle, you know!"

She was glaring at Charles, daring him, just DARING HIM to say one bad thing about her family, as Donald's family had.

Charles knew he was treading on dangerous ground now, when her father had been brought into it. He said calmly, "Margaret, I know that. Colonel Potter told me a lot about your father. He's a great tactician and soldier, and I respect him for that. He also raised a daughter who knows how to fend for herself, and who does not take any guff off of anybody. That is one of the very things about you that made me realize, when I first went to the 4077th, what an extraordinary woman you are."

He took her hand, hoping she would not pull away. She did not retreat, but she didn't show any sign of forgiveness yet.

"Margaret, one way or the other, I am going to marry you, with or without my parents' approval. If this is something we can give them to make it easier on you, me and our baby, then that's what we shall do."

Mention of the baby made her cool considerably. She had to calm down, if only for the baby. She imitated Honoria and took a calming breath.

"You're right, Charles, of course. Can you do me a favor, though, so I'm not wondering for the rest of my life?"

"What's that, my love?"

"Can we tell them our plans, and about the baby, without mentioning my grandmother's family? I don't want to go all my life wondering whether they would've accepted me without that information."

"Certainly, Margaret. But if it looks like they're going to reject our union, I can mention the Spencer family?"

"Yes," she said, although it still upset her. "If they accept our engagement, not knowing about the Spencers, then you can tell them afterwards, if it would make them happy to know."

He put his hands on her shoulders, leaning toward her, gazing directly into her eyes. "Margaret, just know this. I love you. Period. No matter how much you yell at me and shout epithets about the help, I love you. I have been expecting you to adjust to life in the Winchester family, I only think it's fair my family adjust to having a Houlihan in the house."

Charles looked at Honoria, who smiled back, nodding her head. "See? Honoria's already getting used to your being here."

He wrapped his arms over her shoulders, squeezing her to him. "Did I not say we would still have disagreements, and I was planning on disagreeing with you for the rest of our lives?"

He felt her chuckle as she wrapped her arms around him in return. "Yes, you did, Charles. You were certainly right about THAT!"

Charles pulled back, smiling down at her. "Now, how about we go out in the garden and discuss what we'll do for the next couple of days, before our welcome home reception Saturday night?"

Margaret and Charles felt more settled in by the time Saturday arrived, ready to face the reception that evening. She was napping in preparation, so the fatigue would not overwhelm her when they were greeting callers.

Charles was reading the newspaper, sipping his favorite cognac, while Honoria browsed through the ample record collection in the parlour. She wanted to find music to play in the background while their friends and family came to welcome Charles home, and to meet his fiancee.

She took one out and put it on, knowing it was one of Charles' favorites.

He heard the needle touch the record, and when the opening strains began, he stood and turned to Honoria. "HONORIA! Turn that off!"

He'd so shocked her that she jumped back, gasping, holding her hands to her mouth. "Ch-charles, wh-what's wrong? It's M-mozart, your f-favorite!" Her eyes began to fill with tears at her brother's most unusual outburst.

The lilting light tune mocked the knot of pain in his head, causing him to visualize and remember once again the image of the POW with the chest cavity blown obscenely open. He shuddered as he stomped to the phonograph, violently flinging the offending needle off the album.

"NO MOZART!" he screamed in her face. He stomped back to his chair and sat down, gulping the remainder of his cognac. He stared out the window, disregarding both the newspaper and Honoria.

Honoria didn't know what to think. She had never EVER seen her brother act like this! What had happened in Korea to do this to her beloved Charles? She remained as she was, standing silently, watching Charles. She sniffled back her tears, refusing to let this tirade upset her. He is not right, she thought. Something happened to make him do this. The determination to find out what was hurting her brother gave her strength, and she timidly stepped forward until she was just behind his chair.

Charles knew his sister was waiting there, for some response from him, some explanation of his bizarre behavior. Part of him cried inside, having yelled at his sister in a manner he'd never exhibited before, and another part wanted to scream and run out of the house, if only to get away from her sniffles and her staring at him. He felt the tension building, and wanted to simply scream LEAVE ME ALONE!

He fought the desire to turn on her again, if only as a target for his rage. He closed his eyes, fighting the impulse to get up and PUNCH something, anything. He had to move, to get out of there. He felt her presence next to him.

"Leave me alone," he growled, his teeth clenched.

She didn't say anything. He waited.

"Honoria. Leave. Me. Alone."

She went to the liquor cabinet and poured him and herself a cognac. She set his down on the little table by his chair, and sipped her own.

In a flash, the glass and cognac were shattered against the far wall.

"I said LEAVE ME ALONE HONORIA!" he screamed, turning to her.

Her eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip twitched back and forth, but she was determined not to cry. She was also determined, he finally conceded, not to leave him as he'd demanded. He slammed back into his chair, ignoring her.

She took a gulp of her cognac and handed it to him. "Here, you can throw this too, if it will help you explain to me what's going on."

He took it and flung it to shatter next to its companion. He was rapidly sinking into a major sulk, and she knew it. He could sulk for days, given the chance.

"Charles, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong." She took the footstool and pulled it alongside his chair, sitting down and placing her hand on his arm. He was so tense that she rubbed his arm for a moment, then stopped.

He sighed, relaxing into the cushions. She wasn't going to leave him, especially now. She would wait, for the entire evening if necessary, to hear him out. He leaned his head back onto the high cushiony chair back, and closed his eyes. Honoria watched him, waiting patiently. A single tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek.

"Charles," she said, very softly. "What's wrong? Whatever it is, let me help. Tell me."

He grasped her hand, squeezing painfully. She didn't cry out. She would let him do whatever he had to to get this out.

He took a long shuddering breath and expelled it violently. Without opening his eyes or changing expression, he said in a monotone, "The music, Honoria. I've lost the music. The dark wretched hand of death has reached into me and pulled out my life."

He went silent. She waited, not saying anything.

He started again, telling her everything: encountering the four Chinese when he'd gone to relieve himself, "capturing" said Chinese and bringing them back to the 4077th. He told her how he'd learned they were musicians, not Chinese soldiers. He received permission from Colonel Potter to work with them in the mess tent, where he'd proceeded to teach them favorite Mozart pieces. The four of them, and Charles, had learned to communicate and share through the love and bond of music. Too soon after his ensemble had begun sounding almost passable, the Army had arrived with a bus in which to haul them to the nearest POW camp. Within minutes of leaving, the bus had been shelled, killing one of the musicians instantly.

Charles had no mercy for his sister's delicate nature, and described the horrid scene he'd witnessed.

"When I saw that dear, sweet man lying there, dead, his chest ripped open, his heart virtually gone, a part of me died with him. Mozart. I cannot bear to hear it any longer, Honoria, he has died along with my flutist friend."

As Charles started his tale, the tears began to flow silently down Honoria's face. She was not going to make a scene, make it about herself, but sit and listen quietly to her brother. He had to vent, to let this out. She knew he could not let it fester for the rest of his life.

She rested her head on his arm, and put her hand over his. Neither spoke for quite some time, both thinking.

Honoria finally spoke up. "Charles, may I suggest a different perspective?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"I do not think you should be grieving and mourning this man's death, but celebrating his life."

He didn't say anything. She took a calming breath, and continued.

"I will tell you how it looks to me, based on what you told me. These four men had no ill-will toward anyone, had no desire to kill for their country. They simply wanted to share the music. They were lucky that it was you they encountered there in the brush, were they not? Someone who could understand what was in them. You took them, and when you learned they were musicians, you wanted to share that with them. You love music, and Mozart, so much that even their little symphony was a comfort to you. And you, as well, were a comfort to them."

"How so?"

"They saw a tall white American man, a man whom they'd been told was their enemy, and you showed them kindness and compassion. You showed them an aspect of another culture and race they had never seen nor experienced. You took them in, fed them, tended to their physical needs, succored them. You sat them down in the mess tent and proceeded to teach them one of the Masters, Mozart. Like you said, the five of you had finally managed to produce a passable Mozart rendition, and the Army came to collect them. It was not your fault they got shelled. You shouldn't blame yourself for that. The man's last days and hours were a joy to him, as he shared his love for music with his fellows and you. He loved Mozart, as do you. Should you not celebrate that, not deny it? Every time you hear that piece you'd taught them, you should remember that this man had happiness toward the end. I am sure he would not want you to deny Mozart to yourself. I am also sure he would want you to instill that love of music into your child, perhaps a son, into the next generation of Winchesters."

Charles didn't move when she had finished her dissertation. He had never heard his sister speak so long and so well. Her determination gave her the calmness she'd needed to speak clearly to her brother. He must understand the point of view she was presenting.

He released her hand, and leaned over to kiss her on the head. "You are right, Honoria, and you amaze me with your insight. I do believe you are correct. This man would not want me to deny Mozart to my child. No true musician would want music withheld from children, and he was a true artist."

He finally stood up, and pulled his tall sister up, into his arms. He held her there, amazed at the maturity in his little sister. She's grown up, he thought, smiling. "I shall consider what you've said, Honoria. It may take me a little longer, but already your understanding of the situation is sinking in. Tonight, when our guests arrive and I am surrounded by loved ones, and you and Margaret especially, please put Mozart on and I will see how I feel, all right?"

She smiled against him. "Yes, Charles. We'll give it a try."

(Author's Note: The story continues the following Monday, when Charles reports to Boston Mercy as the head of Thoracic Surgery.)


	3. Boston Mercy

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell, Amen"

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Three. Boston Mercy.

Monday Morning.

The reception area of Thoracics at Boston Mercy Hospital was abuzz Monday morning, in anticipation of the arrival of their new Chief of Thoracic Surgery. The surgeons and nurses were hanging about, trying to look busy, in case the man showed up prematurely to observe his new staff.

The older woman at the Nurse's Station answered the phone yet again.

"No, he's not here, Doctor," she said automatically, knowing it would be another inquiry. She hung up.

She saw movement out of the corner of one eye and turned her head, to see another doctor poke his curly head around the corner.

"Well?" he asked, giving her that endearing smile he knew charmed the ladies.

"What're you doing, lying in wait, to pounce on him as he comes off the elevator?" she asked, laughing. He scooched forward with his feet. He was sitting in a wheelchair and began circling the Nurse's Station, like a tribe of Indians circling a wagon train.

"Naw, I just want to see the man who gutted me to take the Chief position. All I know is he'd better be damned good, 'cos there ain't any better than ME!"

She smirked and turned to her files she'd been trying to clear off her desk since she'd arrived. "Hmmm mmmm," she said, trying not to humor him. Problem was, he was right: he was the best they had, and he knew it. If this new chief was not better, there'd be stuff hitting the fan.

He started pulling wheelies on the linoleum, rocking back and forth to keep his balance. He looked at the large clock yet again.

"WHEN is he supposed to arrive?" he asked once more.

"In eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds, now go away! I swear, you doctors can be a pain in my behind!" She waved her hand at him to encourage him to leave her alone.

His barking laugh echoed through the reception area. "All right, all right, I'm leaving." He wheeled back around the corner and she heard him go "WHEEEEEEEE" as he hit the ramp leading to the side exit.

She shook her head. Doctors.

The new Chief apparently didn't keep to schedules, because a minute later, the elevator door opened and she saw a tall, distinguished balding man step forward, looking around.

Oh God, is that him? Lookit him, King of All He Surveys, she thought.

He approached her station.

"Yes, I am Dr. Charles Emerson Winchester the Third. If you could show me to my office, Nurse, I would appreciate it."

She stared at him, not moving. She pointedly looked him up and down.

He paused, looking around. Perhaps she didn't hear me? he thought. He didn't feel the need to repeat himself. He merely returned her calm gaze, waiting.

Damn, she thought, standing up. The Look was usually sufficient to break a condescending attitude when a new doctor joined the staff, acting like they were God's own gift to medicine. Wasn't going to work with THIS one.

Charles had not missed the curious glances from the various doctors, nurses and orderlies in the area. He maintained his detached attitude, not showing either pleasure nor disdain as he followed the nurse to his suite of offices.

The outer office was for his secretary, who stood up as she saw the nurse and Dr. Winchester approach. She swallowed nervously as the tall imposing man followed the older nurse in.

"Dr. Winchester, this is Della, your secretary. She will help you in whatever capacity you require as Chief, when you do not need a nurse's assistance." The nurse turned on her heel and left. She could be abrupt and succinct as well.

"It's nice to meet you finally, Dr. Winchester. I was excited when they told me I would be the secretary for the new Chief," Della said, smiling hesitantly.

"Yes, I'm sure. Come with me," he said, continuing into his inner office. He said behind him, "And bring a notepad."

She grabbed her steno pad and followed him in, pen ready.

"I will need you to contact my surgical staff. I'd like to meet each one, in alphabetical order. Please be sure I have their files on-hand when they arrive. Also, contact a good interior decorator, so this office will suit my needs. I'll trust your judgement on this, don't disappoint me. I also require the phone number of the best obstetrician in the city. Consult with someone in Obstetrics here if you have to."

She was jotting down notes furiously as he spoke. She looked up and smiled. "Is your wife expecting, Doctor?"

He glared at her and did not reply. She must learn not to ask questions of his personal life, after all.

She blushed and looked down at her notepad, finishing writing down what he'd said. "Yes, Doctor," she said, and retreated to the security of her desk.

Charles sat down to start going through the papers already in his in-bin. He was concentrating on the various documents for a while when he heard a commotion in the outer office. He looked up to see Della standing in front of a tall, lanky curly-haired doctor.

"Doctor, you CAN'T go in there yet, it's not your turn!" She held her hands out, trying to prevent his entrance to the Chief's office. "PLEASE, he wants to meet you all in alphabetical order!"

Charles smiled, watching his secretary's attempts to keep this brash man out of his office. The man had a file in his hand. Charles assumed it was his own file with his medical credentials and such. He waited to see who would win the struggle.

The doctor barked a laugh as he smiled down at Della, gently taking her by the shoulders and moving her aside. "Alphabetical, my ass."

He proceeded past her into Charles' office, threw his file down on the desk and sat down, crossing one leg over the other, relaxing in the chair, arms behind his head. He didn't say a word, merely looked at this man who'd superceded him for the position of Chief.

Charles didn't say a word either. He looked at the man, who appeared to be a bit younger than he, and opened the file, still staring at this intruder.

Charles began reading the man's educational and medical background. His first reaction was that of surprise. Harvard? He looked at the man in the chair again, noting his casual attire of blue jeans and sneakers, and a snug t-shirt. He went back to the file. Four years behind himself then at that esteemed institution. He'd be about 33 then. Interned and did his residency at Mass. General. Very good. As Charles reached to turn the page, the man finally spoke up.

"You'd better be good. In fact, you'd better be damned brilliant."

Charles was so shocked that he looked up, at a loss for words for all of two seconds. "Excuse me?"

"You got my job. I was in line for Chief. I'd heard on the grapevine you pulled some strings to get it."

Charles blushed and quelled his angry retort. He was still annoyed that Margaret had contacted her "Uncle" Bob about Charles getting this position. She, and later Robert Fuller, had stressed that it was his experience, skills and other glowing qualifications that landed him the position. Margaret had merely brought it to Fuller's attention for review.

"My own medical education and background is available for your perusal, Doctor. We seem to have something in common at least: I, too, went to Harvard. Apparently four years ahead of you."

"That's a start, good. Graduating from Harvard doesn't make you brilliant."

"They do not let idiots graduate valedictorian."

"Ah, okay. You too, huh?"

Charles frowned and checked the file again. Damn. From what he could see, this guy was incredibly good.

They continued back and forth like that, Charles trying to find ways to one-up this man in regards to medical and surgical skills, and the man (and his file) confirming that he was at least on the same par as Dr. Winchester himself. The only thing Charles could argue in his own favor was that he was a little older, and thus had a few more years of experience behind him.

He realized he had one ace in the hole: his time at the 4077th. How could he bring that up, though, without sounding obtuse? He would save that datum for some other time.

He looked again at the man's file. He was going to have to keep an eye on this one, observe him in the surgical theater a few times to get a true assessment. Words on paper couldn't convey a man's skill with a scalpel, after all. For all Charles knew, he could be a dunce in a surgical mask.

"I think I've seen all I need to this morning," Charles said, abruptly ending their word-jousting.

The other doctor actually took the clue and stood up.

"I look forward to seeing you in the operating room, Doctor..." he looked again at the personal information, "Doctor McIntyre."

(Author's notes: I've seen other fics put these two together. I have maintained since Charles was introduced that it was ironic how he and Trapper were both thoracic surgeons from Boston. It's not unusual to have them both end up at the same hospital in Boston, after all. Also, I always appreciate reviews, but please, no spoilers! Thanks!)


	4. Remembering

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell, Amen" 

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Four. Remembering.

The Formal Reception of the new Chief of Thoracic Surgery.

Dr. John McIntyre, the Chief's secretary Della, and Nurse Beth Johnson, who had had the onerous duty of greeting the new Chief earlier that week, were gathered at the end of the bar, laughing and trading jokes and stories. Primarily, though, they were watching the crowd, pointing and chuckling at people.

Della leaned over to Beth, pointing, "Look at what she's wearing! Didn't anyone tell her this was a formal function?"

Beth laughed, and indicated Dr. McIntyre. "Well, look what he calls formal! So he threw a tie on over his t-shirt!"

The two women laughed, looking at John. He shrugged and downed his martini. "Like I care about functions. I'm only here because Beth dragged me along and threw this tie at me. And told me there'd be free drinks, that was the kicker!"

"I knew that'd get ya, John. That, and you didn't want to be the surgeon on-call so you pulled seniority and left Dr. Greene at work."

"You know I don't pull rank often. Didn't do it in the Army, not doing it now."

He saw Della stretch and strain to see the entrance. "Where IS he?" she asked nervously. She wasn't sure how she felt about Dr. Winchester. She only knew that if she followed his orders, then he would give her some reign to make her own decisions, like with the interior decorator she'd found. He had been quite pleased with the agency she had gone with, and told her so, boosting her confidence in working for him. He had also let her know that inquiries into his personal life would not be permitted, so she refrained from asking anything not directly related to work. She wasn't quite sure, but she felt she could develop a crush on him if she wasn't careful. He was quite complex and a mystery to her, which only fueled her curiosity.

John shrugged. "Hell, I don't know or care. He hovered over me three times this week in surgery, watching, not saying a word one way or the other. Not that I need his approval or opinion, mind you, I just want him to admit I'm damned good. I haven't had the chance to observe HIM, however. It's almost like he's scheduling surgery when he knows I won't be around!"

Beth asked, "Do you think he'd do that? Maybe he's not as good as you and he knows it, and doesn't want YOU to know it!"

He humphed as he drained his third martini. "Probably."

He was trying to flag down the bartender when the women started ooh'ing and aah'ing at something. They'd been doing that all night, as they critiqued each woman's outfit as she came through the door, so he ignored them, still trying to get the bartender's attention.

Beth whistled softly. "Now, would you look at that? How'd he get a class act like HER on his arm?"

Della said, "That dress is absolutely GORGEOUS! That dark midnight blue, and her hair put up so perfectly."

Beth looked closer, her keen eyesight catching another detail. "Oh, my, look at that rock on her FINGER! Dr. Winchester's engaged, and didn't even mention it!"

Della gasped, wondering how much she should say. He'd asked for an obstetrician! And for this beautiful woman on his arm! Her thoughts went back and forth. The two women and McIntyre had been gossiping all night, and here she had a juicy bit of information at her disposal to share with them both. On the other hand, though, she was his secretary and had to prove to him, and herself, that she could maintain discretion. She didn't want to imagine the wrath that would come down on her if it was learned she'd been talking about Dr. Winchester's personal life! She wisely chose to keep quiet, and just observe.

Fresh martini in hand, John turned to see who the ladies had been critiquing this time. He took a sip of his drink, and almost choked on it when he saw Dr. Winchester with the woman they'd been gossping about.

"Oh. My. God." he whispered, sitting up in his barstool, watching the couple as they moved through the crowd greeting people. Fortunately, they were moving away from the bar, not towards it.

Beth said, "I KNOW, isn't she gorgeous? Not for you, though, John. Look at the rock on her finger, you can see it sparkle from here!"

"Engaged?" he asked, ignoring the two women completely. All he had were eyes for Margaret, watching her walk around, arm linked with Winchester's. How in the world could she be back from Korea so recently, and ENGAGED? To HIM? Thoughts and memories of his time at the 4077th came flooding back. He suddenly felt nauseous.

They're home, he thought. The 4077th personnel had come home. He could finally talk to Hawkeye Pierce. Crabapple Cove wasn't far away, after all. He had to call Hawk. Now.

He turned on the barstool, angled away from Winchester and Margaret, and ducked out of the nearest exit, not saying a word to the two women. They looked after him curiously, then turned their attention back to the new Chief and his lady.

Trapper found a phone booth and plugged in a dime, calling the Operator.

"I'd like to make a call and reverse the charges to my phone bill. This is Dr. McIntyre, it's an emergency." He figured that would expedite it. Damned rank pulling.

"One moment, Doctor," she said, then took down his information before placing the call. He finally got through to Dr. Daniel Pierce in Crabapple Cove, Maine.

"Dr. Pierce?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"This is Dr. McIntyre. Trapper John, Hawkeye's friend from Korea."

"Yes, Trapper, how are you?"

"I'm fine, sir, thank you. I was wondering, is Hawkeye back from Korea yet? I hadn't heard from him and I know some of the 4077th folks are in the States now."

"No, son, not yet. He called me from Tokyo, said he was staying behind a little longer to help with the mop-up. They still need surgeons for the last of the troops being evac'd from Korea."

Typical, John thought.

"I see. Could I give you my contact information, for when he returns? I really want to talk to him."

"Certainly, let me get my pen and paper." There was a slight pause and the older doctor returned. "Okay, Trapper, go ahead."

He gave him his home and work information, stressing it was important that he hear from Hawkeye as soon as humanly possible.

"He may even be coming through Logan, don't you think?"

Hawkeye's father said, "Yes, I think you're right. I can't call him from here, I'm not sure where they have him now. They're going unit to unit as they're needed. Next time he phones, I'll give him your information."

John smiled. "Yes, sir, that would be great. I'm looking forward to hearing from him. You take care, now."

"You too, Trapper."

Trapper sneaked back to the bar stool he'd abandoned minutes before. The women figured he had simply gone to the men's room, so continued watching the Winchester show.

Trapper hunkered down a little, trying to shrink his taller frame. He put his hand up, partly covering his eyes and face, in case a stray glance from Margaret found him. He wasn't ready to talk to her yet. He wanted to watch her, and remember.

He remembered their subtle glances and comments during his tenure at the 4077th, and the time he'd smirked, "And I'll see YOU tonight!" He knew he was putting a bee into Frank's proverbial bonnet with that little order to Major Houlihan. He had duty with her that night, but Frank might not have known it. Trapper had originally meant that only, that they'd be working together. Margaret had interpreted his meaning for something else.

The next morning, once they'd been relieved by Hawkeye and Lt. Bigelow, she'd quietly taken his hand, not saying a word. She led him to the favorite make-out spot in the Supply Room and they'd made love over and over.

He remembered those two hours of fire and passion, as he continued to stare at her. He wondered if Winchester realized what a lucky, lucky man he was.

John had to talk to her. Soon. Before they got married. He was free now, having been divorced for well over a year. If he could just talk to her, maybe... his thought trailed off. Maybe what? Was he going to come out of the blue and declare his love for her? He thought all of those feelings had been suppressed, along with so much more from Korea. The agony he'd suffered when Henry died. Being ripped away from Hawkeye so abruptly, without even a chance to say goodbye. The divorce that happened so soon after his return.

Everything came back. He gulped his martini, and ordered his sixth. He turned and focused on his drink, still disregarding the two women. They'd turned back to him, curious about his reticence, but said nothing. They could sense his mood change and didn't understand. Beth shook her head silently at Della, when the younger woman looked like she was going to ask him about what was wrong.

She said quietly, "I get the feeling he needs to be alone."

Boy, was she ever right, he thought. He wanted to leave, but couldn't bring himself to. He had to talk to Margaret. Tonight.

He was so lost in thought that he hadn't heard Dr. Fuller's welcoming introduction and speech, nor Winchester's reply and greeting to his new staff.

Beth and Della were still watching the couple. "She's lucky to have a man like that," Della said, suppressing a little spark of jealousy. So much for developing a crush, she thought.

John barked out a laugh. "HA!" he said, laughing more when the women turned to him, startled.

Margaret, who was standing with Charles and her "Uncle" Bob, almost choked on her ginger ale, when she heard that laugh. Her heart began to race, and she straightened up, carefully looking around.

"Darling, are you all right?" Charles exclaimed, moving to put his arm around her. "Are you ill?"

She found who she was looking for. Trapper John McIntyre. At the bar with two women, laughing and smiling at them. That smile. She stared for only a second, not wanting to show that anything unusual had happened.

Charles had given her the excuse she'd needed. "Yes, Charles, I'll be right back!"

She ran out of the nearby exit, and looked around. Charles wasn't following her. Good. She saw the corridors led to the other side of the room, and she sneaked around the corner, homing in on John's laughter. She watched him through the door he sat near, waiting for her chance. The two women with him looked away, and Margaret reached forward, grabbed John by the arm, and dragged him out into the hallway.

"Margaret!" he declared, putting his arm sloppily around her, staggering.

"Shhhh!" she looked around and saw a utility closet. She pulled him in there and slammed the door shut.

"What on EARTH are you doing here?" she demanded.

He leaned against the wall, ignoring the brooms and mops behind him. "Seeing you and remembering! How 'bout you?"

She was shocked. Remembering? Oh, no, she thought.

"You're drunk, Trapper," she snapped, and that memory came back to him too, of the times she and Burns would be on their high and mighty bandwagon horse, deriding him and Hawkeye for all the boozing they'd done.

"Yes, Hot Lips, I am."

"And DON'T call me that! Charles has thankfully never heard that little nickname you two goons gave me!"

She was furious. To be here at this lovely function, and have TRAPPER thrown into her face! With CHARLES in the same room!

"You haven't answered me, buster, what the hell are you doing here? This is for BOSTON MERCY surgeons! A private function! What'd you do, gate-crash for the booze?"

"Naw, Margaret, I work there. I was in line for Chief when Winchester suddenly got thrown into the mix. I have no idea where he came from."

"You WORK THERE?"

"Yeah, Winchester's my...well, my new boss," he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "So how did you get engaged to Dr. High and Mighty Thoracic Surgeon? You've been gone three years!"

She wasn't going to re-cap the last two years to this very drunk man.

"Look, Trapper, I'm going to send you home. You're stone drunk. Go home, sleep this off. It's all been a bad dream, and you won't remember it in the morning."

"Naw, GOOD dream, seeing you, and I'm remembering it all." He leaned forward all of a sudden, kissing her before she could object.

She struggled and finally managed to push him back.

"Still hot, I see," he said, chuckling.

That was it. She opened the door, poked her head out to look around, and entered the hallway, dragging McIntyre with her once more. She managed to get him to the hotel lobby, sat him down and asked the concierge to keep an eye on him until a taxi could retrieve him. She gave the man the taxi fare, plus a little extra for his help.

She whispered in his ear. "It never happened, John. Tell the cabbie where you live, he'll bring you home. Then go to sleep."

She turned to go back to their function, but looked back one more time before she walked out of sight, to see if he'd remained seated. He was sitting, slumped down, looking dejected. But he was staying there, which is what she wanted. She went back to find Charles.

Charles had noticed Margaret's abrupt mood change when she'd returned. She kept glancing at her watch, looking around nervously.

"Is something wrong, sweetheart?" he asked when they'd had a chance to be alone.

She turned to him, smiling. "No, Charles, I'm wondering how much longer this will be." She yawned mightily, playing at being fatigued.

"Are you tired? I can make our farewells if you'd like, tell Dr. Fuller that you are unwell."

"I think that would be best, Charles. I'll go with you to say goodbye to him."

Soon they were on the last leg of their journey back to the estate. Charles had the continual feeling that something was not right with Margaret. She'd been enjoying the evening, strolling around with him and meeting his new colleagues and staff. Seeing her "Uncle" Bob had brightened her spirits, as they'd talked about family outings their two respective clans had enjoyed in her youth. She'd gone to the ladies' room, and had returned in a state of agitation.

He tried to remember if anything untoward had happened that evening. Some people in the corner, at the bar, had become a shade too noisy after Dr. Fuller's speech and his own, but that was to be expected when one had an open bar to drink from. He and Margaret had arrived late, so the people there had had the chance to get rather loosened up. It hadn't turned rowdy, for which Charles was grateful, so he could not imagine what might have happened to put Margaret in this mood.

She was gazing out the window, her face turned from his own, so he could not see her eyes. He leaned forward so he could see her face fully.

"Are you sure you're all right, Margaret?"

She smiled, almost sadly, when she turned to him. "Yes, darling, I am just thinking hard, that's all. About the 4077th. And how much I REALLY want a drink right now."

"I don't think one would hurt you, or the baby."

She looked at the wet bar in the limousine, knowing she could have anything. But no. She wasn't going to do that.

"No, Charles, I'll pass. If I have one tonight, I'm afraid I won't stop, the mood I'm in." She turned back to gaze into the night, quiet once more.

In the early morning hours, John McIntyre tumbled roughly in bed, flopping back and forth. He had dreams of platinum hair and fiery kisses, and woke the following morning, remembering still.

(Author's Notes: The line above, "And I'll see you tonight," was actually on an episode of MASH, as were many other moments between Margaret and Trapper. Another was when Margaret commented about Trapper's "body." The way she said it made Frank suspicious, and he asked her what she meant by his "body." So there were definite shippy moments in the series. In the MOVIE, Trapper and Margaret were together, after Frank was hauled off to the looney bin. There's one scene where they're in the Swamp playing cards, and "Hot Lips" is sitting on Trapper's lap. So I'm not grabbing this out of thin air.)


	5. Revelations

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell, Amen"

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Five. Revelations.

"Miss Honoria, there is Dr. McIntyre here to see Miss Margaret," the butler informed Honoria, who was in the parlour listening to music.

"Please show him in. I'll go check on Margaret, see if she's awake."

"Yes, miss."

Honoria ran for the stairs and took them two at a time. She listened at Margaret's door, to check if she was awake. She tapped politely.

"Come in," came the reply.

Honoria entered to see Margaret sitting at the desk, writing letters.

"Margaret, there's a gentleman here to see you. Rogers just informed me."

"Who is it, Uncle Bob?"

"Dr. McIntyre."

Oh, God, Margaret thought. What's he doing HERE?

She sighed. "All right, I'll be right down, let me tidy up a little," she said. She was still in her nightclothes, having chosen to eat breakfast in her room with Charles. "It's about time I got dressed, being almost three in the afternoon!"

Honoria smiled, on her way back downstairs. "That's all right, you're on leave and vacation, do what you want I say!"

Honoria returned to the parlour to find a tall curly-haired gentleman bent over, looking at the classical music selections. He stood up straight when he saw her.

He smiled charmingly at her and introduced myself. "I'm sorry to intrude on your Saturday afternoon, but I needed to talk to Major Houlihan. My name is Dr. John McIntyre. I work under Dr. Winchester."

She reached out to shake his hand, smiling up at him. He is most handsome, she thought, that smile! "How do you do, Dr. McIntyre? I am Honoria Winchester, Dr. Winchester's sister. Would you like to sit down and have a brandy while we wait for Margaret? She's getting dressed."

He took the seat she'd indicated. "Yes, that would be nice, thank you."

He watched her as she prepared the two brandies. Very pretty, he thought. And TALL too! He glanced when she turned away. No ring on her finger.

She took the seat opposite John and smiled as she took a sip of brandy.

"So, how do you like working with my brother, Dr. McIntyre?"

"He hasn't really been there very long, so he and I have not yet had a chance to work together on a more complicated case. He's taken the chance to observe everyone on his staff in surgery, including myself, but I keep missing the opportunity to observe him at work. We actually don't see one another very often!"

"I see. That may be why I don't recall him mentioning your name." She looked curiously toward the hallway and the direction of the stairs, wondering where Margaret was. Honoria was dying to ask him what business he had with her brother's fiancee, but couldn't think of the polite way to phrase it.

"I understand that everyone at the party last night noticed Margaret's engagement ring and concluded Charles is getting married."

"Yes, many of the ladies were surprised and," he smiled winningly, "at least a couple disappointed to see he'd been claimed!"

Honoria laughed delicately, taking another warming sip of brandy. This man was a delight, the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled.

"Did you come, perhaps, to talk to Margaret about the upcoming nuptials, then?" she asked, no longer able to contain her question. "A surprise for the new Chief of Surgery?"

"We do have a lot to discuss, yes," he replied neutrally. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Honoria heard Margaret coming down the stairs.

"Here she comes, Doctor, one moment."

She ran into the hallway, halting Margaret. Honoria whispered, "He's a surgeon under Charles, Margaret. He is S-SO handsome, and SINGLE! PLEASE keep him here, maybe for dinner?"

Margaret smiled at the joy in Honoria's eyes. "I'll see what I can do, Honoria."

She stopped in the doorway when she saw Trapper. He didn't say anything, he only looked at Honoria.

Margaret turned to Honoria, "Could you excuse us? He and I need to talk about some things."

Honoria, believing she knew what they were going to discuss, winked at Margaret and said, "You two could go walk in the garden! It's very shady and cool out there."

Margaret thought it was an excellent suggestion, and motioned to John to follow her. "This way, Doctor."

He silently followed her out. As they walked on the winding flagstones that would lead them through the immaculate garden, John took Margaret's arm, holding one hand in his.

Margaret's body betrayed her, and she felt herself responding to his touch. As they rounded the bend, she pulled her hand and arm away.

They walked a little further from the mansion and settled on a fine stone bench overlooking a coy pond. Margaret looked around, to be sure none of the gardeners and landscapers were nearby, and turned on Trapper.

"What in the world do you mean, coming by HERE to see me? When you KNOW Charles is gone?"

He smiled at her, the sun lighting his eyes. "I needed to talk to you, Margaret, after last night. I wanted to last night, but I was so out of it I couldn't articulate what I needed to say."

"Well, say it and leave, McIntyre," she said sharply.

He wasn't sure how to begin. He had wanted to proclaim "I LOVE YOU" but the words caught in his throat. Did he really love her, or was it the booze talking last night and the memories? He wasn't sure himself, now that he had her here, in the harsh light of day.

"I...I was shocked when I saw you last night, coming in with Winchester, Margaret. I'm still shocked. I guess... Look, Margaret, when I saw you last night, all those feelings from the 4077th came rushing back to me. Feelings about you, about Hawkeye, when Henry died. I thought I'd left all of that, and all of you, behind and here you come walking in with my new BOSS for Christ' sake!"

She looked down at her left hand, turning her diamond engagement ring back and forth, making it sparkle in the brilliant August sunshine. She looked up at him. "I have to admit, seeing you brought stuff back for me, too. But John, back then, it was different. I was messing around with Frank and I knew that was going nowhere. YOU were married too! What IS it with me and married men, dammit?"

She got up and paced back and forth along the pond's edge, gazing in, the sunlight reflecting off it rivaling her diamond ring.

He walked up behind her and held her by the shoulders. "I know what it is. We come back to the States and think we can jump back in where we left off two, three years ago, and we can't. All those memories came flooding back to us both when we saw one another again."

He paused. He was going to tell her how he felt. "Margaret, I thought I was going to come here to tell you that I love you, that I wanted you to be with me. I had to say this before you got married. But now... now that I'm sober, and have had the night and day to think on it, I realized it was impulse. Those feelings aren't there. I'd like to consider you my friend, now, if you'll let me."

"I'm glad you were honest with me, John. I'd like to call you friend, too. In the few days I've been here, it's been like living on another world. It'd be nice to have someone to laugh and cut up with again. NOT that Charles doesn't do that, mind you. He's actually quite a scream when we get started!"

He turned her around, looking down into her blue eyes. "Margaret, I need to ask you one important thing."

"What is it, John?"

"Are you happy? Really, deep-down-inside-in-love happy?"

The smile that lit her face gave him his answer. "Yes, John, I'm happier than I've ever been in my life!"

He smiled, a dash of melancholy in his voice. "I'm glad, then, for you both."

Margaret stepped back toward the footpath. "Are we done talking? Because Honoria asked me, in no uncertain terms, to invite you to dinner. She is quite taken with you, the poor girl!"

He joined her on the path, and they began walking back. "Whaddya mean, poor girl?" He laughed, his sullen mood lifted. He looked toward the mansion. "I have to admit, she is pretty. And tall too! I've never dated a girl that tall!"

When they returned to the mansion, Honoria was there to greet them. She looked expectantly at Margaret.

Margaret turned to McIntyre. "Doctor, if you'd like, we would be happy if you would join us for dinner this evening! Charles should be home in," she checked her watch," about two hours."

He smiled at the two ladies. "That would be wonderful."

Honoria went to his side. "Doctor McIntyre, perhaps you'd like to pass the time in our television viewing room?"

His eyes lit up at the suggestion. "That'd be great, Miss Winchester, show me the way!"

He put his arm out for her, and she looped hers through, looking back and winking at Margaret. The older woman laughed, and called after her, "I'll be there in a few minutes, Honoria, I need to call Charles!"

"Winchester."

"Charles, it's me. Listen, can you come home early this evening? I needed to talk to you. About last night."

"Hold on, Margaret." He checked his watch, and yelled to Della. "Della, do I have any more appointments this afternoon?"

She yelled back, "No, Doctor!"

Charles turned back to the phone. "Della informs me I have no more appointments this afternoon. I can leave now, darling!"

"Great, I'll ask the cooks to get dinner prepared to serve then. Any preferences tonight?"

He whispered, "Only one, baby, heh heh heh."

Margaret laughed, "Oh, you!" and hung up. He could be silly at the oddest moments.

He got his briefcase and took off his doctor's coat, draping it over one arm. "Della, I'm leaving for the day."

"All righty, see you in the morning, Doctor." She looked at her desk clock. She still had an hour and a half to go.

Charles paused at the door, and turned around. "Do you have any fires to put out tonight, Della?"

She looked significantly at her very tidy and paper-free desk and in-bin. "No, Doctor."

"Why don't you take off, too, and we'll count it as a full shift." He smiled at her and left for the elevator.

She watched him walk away, and shook her head in wonder. He often did that to her. Sometimes he could be serious as the day is long, then other times he would do something nice like this. She picked up her purse and headed for the staircase. Maybe she could make an early bus home tonight!

Charles had to refrain from driving too fast to get home to Margaret. Good, she's going to tell me what's bothering her.

He put the car away and went to the parlour, where he heard quiet music and conversation. He stopped dead still in the doorway when he saw John McIntyre there, Honoria sitting comfortably by his side.

His eyes went wide at the sight. "McIntyre? What are you doing here? Honoria?"

Margaret looked at them all. This was it, she had to say it. She stood up and went to Charles.

"Charles, I have something to tell you," she said. She looked at McIntyre too. "Something to tell you both. It's, um... I'm kind of embarassed to say this, but I had to work out some things for myself, John, before I mentioned this."

Charles looked down at her, surprised at her familiarity with McIntyre. "John?"

Lordy, how am I going to say this? She turned to Charles. "Charles, this isn't just Dr. John McIntyre."

"He's not?"

"No, you might remember his name being mentioned at the 4077th. This is Trapper John, the doctor BJ replaced before you came to the camp."

"WHAT?" both men yelled.

"YOU were at the 4077th?" they both said simultaneously.

"YES!" again, at the same time.

Margaret had fallen into a chair, laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. Honoria, too, was laughing, watching this sort-of reunion of MASH personnel.

Charles motioned up and down with his hands, trying to calm everyone down.

"Wait, wait, wait, YOU are Trapper John? The former thoracic surgeon at the 4077th?"

"Yeah, how the hell did YOU end up in that hell-hole?" John asked, smiling ear to ear. This was too much fun!

"I replaced the infamous Frank Burns," he said, as he fixed himself a cognac to soothe his nerves.

"YOU replaced FRANK? That's like replacing a chunk of coal with a DIAMOND, how'd they finally manage to get rid of him?"

Margaret laughed, and told Charles, "Let me explain, darling." She turned to John. "Well, Trapper, after you left, I got engaged to and married Lt. Colonel Donald Penobscott. Frank, um... Frank didn't take it too well. He went nutso in Tokyo, when Donald and I were on our honeymoon."

Trapper's barking laughter filled the mansion as he doubled over too, falling on the loveseat next to Honoria.

Honoria was trying to keep all the names straight, and who replaced whom. "So who is this BJ person? He replaced Dr. McIntyre?"

"Naw, he just filled my space in the Swamp, I cannot be replaced!" Margaret smiled at the way Trapper had phrased that. Charles had said the same thing when Pierce and Potter had considered a temporary replacement for him, when he'd been wounded by a POW.

Charles almost choked on his cognac, and looked up, smiling. "YOU were in the Swamp, too?"

"IN it? I NAMED it!" He held up his glass. "To that festering trash-heap, the Swamp, Tent Number Six!"

"Hear, hear," Charles shouted, and they both gulped down their drinks.

"So, McIntyre, that means Pierce was your bunkmate."

John said, "Yeah. In fact, when I saw Margaret with you last night, I had to call Hawkeye, up in Maine. Talked to his dad instead. Seems Hawkeye's stayed on to help finish with the evac'd people coming into Tokyo."

"Typical," Charles said.

Trapper laughed, "That's exactly what I said! I gave my contact information to Dr. Pierce the Senior. I think Hawkeye'll be coming in through Logan when he comes home."

Rogers' arrival interrupted them.

"Dinner is served," he said quietly.

Charles looked at him. "Thank you, Rogers, we shall be there shortly."

"Certainly, sir," he said and left as quietly as he'd appeared.

Margaret took Charles' arm, and the older couple led the way. Charles' eyebrows went up when he saw McIntyre offer his arm to Honoria, and she took it, smiling at him.

The atmosphere at dinner was convivial, the three 4077th personnel laughing and sharing memories, Margaret being the common bond between the two. Honoria didn't feel left out; on the contrary, she had heard the names of these people so often from Charles' letters and tapes, she felt as if she knew them.

"Charles, tell Dr. McIntyre about Colonel Potter!"

John looked at Margaret. "Potter?"

She smiled, fondly remembering her last CO. "John, he was a dear, sweet man. Regular Army as they came, yet he commanded respect and got it, even from Hawkeye!"

"You're KIDDING, from Hawkeye?"

Charles piped in. "Yes, that is the type of commander he was. A combination of Mark Twain and Abraham, Missouri and Wisdom. He was an excellent surgeon, as well. Somewhere between sneaking into the Army at 15 to be a calvaryman and the 4077th, he'd managed to go to Medical School and became quite adept at battlefield surgery."

"What about this BJ fellow?" John asked. "Was he a thoracic surgeon?"

"No, he was barely out of residency when he got drafted. He was a quick learner, though, from what I understand. He'd been thrown rather abruptly into the life of a meatball surgeon. Pierce said they'd encountered a convoy on the way from Kenpo that had been bombed, and Hunnicutt had a demonstration of what he could expect at the 4077th. I was the last surgeon added to the surgical staff before the armistice."

They talked long into the evening, when Margaret began to yawn repeatedly. Charles stood up, as did Trapper.

"McIntyre, I think you can call me 'Charles' now, if you wish, like my fellow Swamprats insisted on doing."

John smiled. "And you can call me 'Trapper,' and one day, we'll get Hawkeye to tell you the tale on how I got THAT name!"

Charles helped Margaret up, and John took Honoria's hand, smiling sweetly at her.

As Charles and Margaret prepared to lead the way back to the parlour, John called out to him.

"Charles, I was wondering something."

He turned around expectantly.

Trapper smiled again at Honoria, then turned to her older brother. "Keeping with the formality of how you two were raised in this old home, I was wondering. Would you mind terribly if I called on your sister some time? Perhaps the four of us could go out to dinner and dancing one night."

Honoria gasped, watching her older brother. Charles' heart almost melted at the sight of his sister; she was obviously quite smitten with McIntyre, in just one afternoon and evening.

"Trapper, I think that's a fine idea. Ideas. I would not object if you wished to call on her, and I think dinner and dancing would be enjoyable! Perhaps the next time we both have the night off?"

"Deal!" He turned to Honoria, and took her hand to his mouth, kissing it softly. "I'll say good night, then, Miss Winchester. I look forward to seeing you again!"

He went to Margaret and gave her a peck on the cheek, and shook Charles' hand. "I'm glad we got to talk tonight. I never realized until I had a chance to talk to you two that there were good times!"

The three followed him to the door. Charles said, "Yes, we must be sure we know when Pierce is coming in at Logan, so all three...well, four...of us can be there to meet him!"

They watched John get in his car and drive on into the warm summer darkness.

(Author's Note: Next Chapter: The Return of Hawkeye) 


	6. Hawkeye Comes Home

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen"

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Six. Hawkeye Comes Home.

Hawkeye couldn't believe how he was feeling. Or, more appropriately, NOT feeling. He was numb. Totally and utterly numb, and he didn't know why. He was going home. After two and a half years, he was going home. Maine in the Summer, with Autumn's breath not too far away. He was returning at the perfect time of year. He thought about his father, his cousins, all the people in Crabapple Cove with whom he'd grown up.

Thinking about what lay ahead in the next two or three days, most of which would be travel time courtesy of Uncle Sam, should've made him excited, happy, overjoyed, but there was nothing.

He thought about the friends he had made at the 4077th. Henry came to mind immediately. Not a day went by that Hawkeye didn't remember Henry Blake, or the family who had lost their father and husband. Lorraine's baby boy who would never know his father, what an incredibly kind man he was.

Hawkeye remembered those early days at the 4077th, when he'd arrived at Kimpo, dazed and confused from what they called "boot camp," geared for doctors and other medical personnel. Get 'em in, get 'em to Korea, and he was there.

He thought about Duke Forrest, how Duke had presumed that Hawkeye was his driver to his new post at the 4077th. Playing along, Hawkeye said, "Yes, sir," got behind the wheel and began driving them. By the time they'd arrived, and Hawkeye had his first look at what would be home for over two years, Duke still hadn't realized that Hawkeye was a surgeon, not a driver. They'd parked the jeep and wandered into the mess tent like they owned it.

Soon after, they'd met Lt. Colonel Henry Blake, Major Frank Burns, Corporal Radar O'Reilly and Father Mulcahy. And Duke met Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce.

At the staff meeting he'd met more personnel that weren't there long after he and Duke had arrived: Ugly John, anesthesiologist. The Painless Pole, dentist. Spearchucker Jones, college football star turned surgeon.

He and Duke were assigned to the Swamp, with Spearchucker and Burns for roommates. Hawkeye and Duke took an instant dislike to Frank Burns, well before they'd seen his inept attempts at surgery. The man was a 'thumper through and through, and the two of them took turns baiting the older doctor. Spearchucker usually held back, watching the antics.

After a particularly grueling round of meatball surgery, Duke and Hawkeye went to Henry and demanded the 4077th get a thoracic surgeon. Henry pointed out that such specialists were usually at the evac hospital, or Tokyo, and Hawkeye countered that the chest-cutters wouldn't do any good if the patient died en route. Henry did what he could, and soon the mysterious stranger showed up.

Hawkeye knew within minutes that he knew this man, but he couldn't place him. He kept asking, and finally he said, pointing to this quiet man, "I know you, sir!"

The other man smiled and plopped two green olives, from his own stash hidden in his parka, into his glass of Hawkeye's bathtub gin, not saying a word.

It took some time, and some subtle clues, and the light shone through in Hawkeye's memory.

"TRAPPER JOHN!" he yelled, falling over onto his bunk, laughing uproariously.

"Took you long enough, Hawkeye," McIntyre said, smiling.

Duke looked between them. "Okay, what did I miss?"

Hawkeye regaled Duke with the tale. On a train run between Maine and Massachusetts, Trapper had cornered a girl, and later she was heard screaming, "HE TRAPPED ME!" The name stuck, and "Trapper" John it was.

The 4077th began losing doctors, and one dentist, bit by bit, until the Army decided four surgeons on-staff were sufficient. What was hard suddenly became harder. No anesthesiologist, no dentist, fewer surgeons. The four of them had to hope it would be sufficient.

Henry was gone, Trapper soon after. He lost two of his closest friends, one to death, the other to an unexpected discharge. Potter and BJ partly filled the respective voids, and new friends were made.

Hawkeye sighed, thinking of them, dead or dispersed to the four corners of the country. He hadn't heard from Trapper, Duke, Ugly John, Spearchucker or Painless. Radar, at least, had been good about keeping in touch with his former unit. He wondered what they were all doing right now, at this second. Enjoying life, I hope.

Then Frank was gone and Charles was in. Boston wasn't so far from Maine, after all. He could at least keep in touch with Charles and Margaret, maybe even be there when the baby came.

He hadn't realized the time that had gone by from Honolulu to San Francisco, until the announcement was made that they were on final approach. He'd managed to phone BJ and let him know he was on the way in, so he'd at least have that visit for two hours before heading to St. Louis. From there, it was on to Logan Airport in Boston, and home to Maine.

Seeming like an instant later, he was again airborne. The two hours in the waiting area in San Francisco were a blur. BJ and Hawkeye talked fast, trying to catch up since they'd departed. Hawkeye had met little Erin Hunnicutt, feeling almost like she was his own daughter. She'd hugged him and called him "Unc-eye," causing the three adults to laugh. Peg Hunnicutt was as beautiful as BJ had described her, and Hawkeye gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek when they'd been introduced.

Thankfully, the holdover in St. Louis was brief, and Hawkeye was taking off for the last time. He leaned back in his seat and sighed. Boston. The next city he'd see was Boston. Dad'll be there, maybe Charles and Margaret, if Dad managed to reach them.

The numb feeling had slowly been replaced by excitement as he made his way from St. Louis to Boston. The excitement and joy of going home was bubbling through, and he was having fun haranguing the people around him, asking them where they were heading from Boston. Everyone got talking about his or her hometown in New England, and it made the time shrivel.

Final approach. Hawkeye could barely contain himself. He could imagine his dad's face now, smiling as Hawkeye walked across from the gangway.

Hawkeye tried to live up to his nickname and looked around as he went down the steps with the crowd. There were so many people, he couldn't discern his father. Dad couldn't have changed THAT much, he thought, wondering if he'd even recognize him.

Two steps to the bottom, as he was looking around, he heard the most distinctive laugh any human being had ever possessed. Hawkeye almost fell on the woman in front of him, he was so startled.

TRAPPER! He never thought he'd hear that laugh again. Hawkeye started jumping up and down, trying to locate him, disregarding the people near him trying to leave the gangway.

Trapper burst through the crowd and grabbed Hawkeye around the torso, lifting him in the air. He planted a big kiss on Hawkeye's cheek.

"That's in case Radar forgot!" he laughed.

The two doubled over laughing, arms around each other. The people exiting the plane decided these two weren't going to be moving anytime soon, and they streamed past them on both sides.

Hawkeye and John finally stood up, gasping for breath, neither able to speak. Trapper kept pointing and gasping, and managed to say, "Y-your f-father, Hawkeye! YOUR FATHER, HAWKEYE!"

Hawkeye spun around to see his father standing there, waiting to be noticed. "DAD!"

He picked up his father as Trapper had done with him, and set him down. He was taller than his father, and looked into the blue eyes that so matched his own.

He hugged him again, more gently this time. "Aw, Dad," he said, tears running down his cheeks. He put his head on his father's shoulder, wiping the wetness away.

Daniel Pierce held his son to him. "Aw, son," he echoed. He didn't ever want to let him go, now that he knew he was home, safe and alive.

Trapper stood with them, arm still on Hawkeye's back.

"Hawk, there's someone else here to see you."

Hawkeye stood up straight, looking around. He saw Margaret and Charles, hanging back a little so Hawkeye could have his reunion with the two people he hadn't seen in years.

The couple came forward, smiling.

"Pierce, why did it not surprise McIntyre and me that you, who had been there the longest, were the one to remain behind?" Charles asked, shaking Hawkeye's hand.

Hawkeye laughed. "Oh, I don't know, Charles, maybe I felt I had to do national penance or something. Someone had to do it, after all."

When they got to the parking area, Charles invited the Pierces and McIntyre to stay at the estate, so that everyone could talk well into the morning if they chose to. They could drive back to Maine in the morning, refreshed and ready to face Hawkeye's first full day home.

"Hawkeye, trust me: you need this. My sister Honoria was kind enough to tell our friends and family that I was not arriving until two days after I actually did, and that brief time of transition was a blessing. You and your father, and Trapper, are welcomed to stay over as our guests, and get to know one another again. Maine will wait a bit longer without the great Hawkeye Pierce, after all," he concluded, smiling at his bunkmate.

Hawkeye paused a moment before replying. It was obvious Charles' invitation had touched him. He clapped Charles on the back. "Charles, that'd be great! It'll be our own mini-reunion!" He turned to his father. "Dad? Can you stay the night, and we can drive back in the morning? Do you have any appointments scheduled?"

"Nothing that can't wait, son. I can call my nurse back home and tell her what we're doing, so they won't wonder where we are."

(Author's Note: To the hardcore MASH movie fans: I was writing the earlier part of this chapter from memory, after having last seen the movie at least two years ago. Please forgive me if I messed something up.) 


	7. Transitions

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen"

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Seven. Transitions.

The Swamprats, Margaret, Honoria and Dr. Pierce were on the grand patio outside the parlour, overlooking the beautiful garden. The summer evening was warm and cloud-free, a gentle breeze bringing a hint of coolness that refreshed them.

The elder Pierce, and Honoria, chose to sit back and listen to the three doctors as they told tales and reminisced about the 4077th. Margaret threw in commentary occasionally, making the men laugh even more. As the night went on, and the alcohol was flowing, the three men got more and more into the old group dynamic, with Hawkeye as the common bond. All were laughing and talking so fast and loud that the others couldn't keep up. They'd leap from topic to topic willy-nilly, saying one thing and going off on another thing at the drop of a hat.

Honoria was thoroughly enjoying watching them. She'd heard so much about Hawkeye Pierce, and was getting to know John McIntyre. She had never seen her brother act so free and unrestrained with his friends from before his Army days, and she found it refreshing. She had not yet learned how to relax and be silly with John, but she'd learn if John had anything to do with it. He was so delightful, finding humor in life so easily, that he was breaking down her barriers that society insisted she erect.

Trapper looked at Margaret, who was sitting quietly by Daniel Pierce and Honoria, also watching the three and their antics.

"Margaret, aren't you drinking tonight? We're way ahead'a ya!" He held up his beer as an indicator.

Before she could reply, Charles spoke up. "No, Trapper, she is not, and for very good reason!"

"And what reason is that?"

Charles pronounced drunkenly, "Because I, Charles Emerson Winchester the Third, am going to be A FATHER!"

"Hear, hear!" Hawkeye said, raising his beer to Charles.

"WHAT? Margaret? Why didn't you TELL me?"

She laughed and said, "I just never had the right opportunity. Charles and I are going to talk to the Army, and resign our commissions. We didn't want to discuss it too much before then, just in case. I want an honorable discharge, not a medical discharge, after all."

"That's understandable, yeah," Trapper said. "Well, congratulations to you both. I get the impression it may've been a surprise, but not unwelcomed, then?"

Charles concentrated on his walking as he moved to Margaret's side, and draped one arm heavily across her thin shoulders. He leaned toward McIntyre, "MOST welcomed, McIntyre! We were beside ourselves with joy when we received confirmation."

He leaned down to kiss Margaret sloppily on the cheek. She laughed and pulled him down the rest of the way to sit next to her.

"Here, sit down before you fall down, Charles!"

Margaret looked significantly at Honoria, who nodded in response and slipped through the door to the parlour, to seek out Rogers and ask for coffee and snacks to be brought to the patio. She and Margaret didn't want the men to get so drunk that they became unruly and unmanageable. Margaret, knowing how these three could be, was thinking ahead.

Rogers returned soon after, depositing the coffee service and tray of sweets on the table.

Honoria got up to see what treats the kitchen had decided on, thanking Rogers for his speedy response.

"Charles, come have some coffee and a sweet," she said, motioning her brother and his friends to her. They glommed onto the coffee and treats as if they had never seen food, and soon began to settle down as the caffeine had its desired effect.

After everyone had had a chance to be served, they sat in a big circle, talking quietly. Dr. Pierce, who had remained quiet for a good portion of the evening, finally spoke up.

"Hawkeye, you look like you're about to fall over. Maybe we should get you to bed, son, you've been traveling for hours and hours."

Hawkeye bobbed his head up, forcing his eyes open as he blurrily looked in the direction of his father's voice. "Aw, Dad, this is nothin', I used to do more'n this in 48 hour OR sessions," he said, either drunkenly or sleepily, Daniel Pierce couldn't tell.

The elder Pierce went to Hawkeye to help him up. Fortunately, with Hawkeye's slender frame, it wasn't too difficult for the older man. He looked at Charles, wondering where he should be bringing his son and himself.

Honoria took over and motioned to Rogers, who'd been standing unobtrusively nearby. "Rogers, would you please accompany the Pierces to their guest rooms, and show them where they may find nightclothes?"

"Yes, Miss Honoria." He motioned to Daniel. "This way, if you please, Dr. Pierce." They began to follow the butler.

Hawkeye looked over his father's shoulder, and hollered, "Do NOT go anywhere, Trapper! You have a nasty habit of disappearing on me!"

Trapper rewarded him with his barking laugh, "I'm not going anywhere, Hawk, I'll be here when you leave for Maine!"

Charles added, "Besides, we'll all be here for the wedding soon, Pierce!"

Hawkeye waved in response and disappeared into the mansion, his father still mostly supporting his taller son.

The Pierces and Rogers climbed to the second floor, and Rogers indicated a door nearby to Daniel Pierce.

"Your suite, Dr. Pierce, with the younger Dr. Pierce's suite next door," he said, indicating Hawkeye's door. "You will find a dresser with a variety of nightclothes to suit both your needs, sir."

Daniel smiled at Rogers, appreciating the courtesy and fine manners of the butler. "Thank you, son, we appreciate it."

"May I be of further assistance, Doctor, with your son?" Rogers asked kindly.

"No, no, that's quite all right, I can take care of my boy."

"Then I'll wish you a good evening, sir." He bowed slightly and returned to the patio.

It didn't take Daniel Pierce long to get Hawkeye changed into comfortable sleepwear, and he moved the light summer blankets aside to lay his son down. Hawkeye was almost asleep before his head hit the pillow.

As Daniel stood over Hawkeye, to pull the blankets around his son's shoulder, Hawkeye opened his eyes to watch his father.

Daniel looked down and saw his son's blue eyes on him, and he looked to be wide awake and quite aware of his surroundings.

"Hawk? You okay?"

"Dad, I'm lying here in this incredibly fine bed, at this beautiful estate, and part of me is wondering, Was all this just a dream, these last two and a half years?" He took his father's hand and pulled him sitting on the bed next to him. "I was thinking of you tucking me in like this, like you did when I was little," he said quietly.

Now that Hawkeye was with only his father, he could finally find release, and as Daniel Pierce watched, his son's eyes filled with tears and Hawkeye began sobbing, clutching his father's hand to him.

Daniel rubbed his son's arm and shoulder, letting the younger man continue crying, knowing what a catharsis it was for him. He murmured comforting words to his son as the sobbing continued. Sometimes a man needed to do this, he knew, especially after the ordeal Hawkeye had endured for so long. When Hawkeye finished, Daniel had already retrieved a handkerchief for him.

He handed the cloth to Hawkeye, not saying a word. Hawkeye didn't feel the need to apologize nor explain away what had happened. This was his DAD, after all! He knew he could cry so openly and be so vulnerable in front of his father; fortunately, Dr. Pierce had not raised his boy to think crying and being open were signs of weakness.

After a moment, when Hawkeye had calmed down, relaxing into the huge pillows on his bed, Daniel patted his son's hand.

"Feeling better, son?"

"I feel wiped out, Dad, completely wiped. But better, yeah. It was like it had been brewing since I took off from Tokyo, waiting for the right moment to come out." He gripped his father's hand to him one more time. "Thanks, Dad."

Daniel stood, leaned down to brush the hair back and kiss his boy on the forehead. "You sleep until you can't sleep any more, Ben, I'll be right next door if you need me."

As Daniel turned to leave, Hawkeye called out, "I love you, Dad."

Daniel turned and smiled at him. "I love you, too, son. Now good night, get some sleep." And he was gone.

After the Pierces left, Honoria stood and asked, "Would you three like to walk in the garden? It's such a lovely evening, I didn't want to retire quite yet."

Margaret stood, pulling Charles up beside her. "I think that's a great idea, Honoria, c'mon Charles!"

Trapper went to Honoria and held out his hand to her. She took it, smiling at him, pleased to see he was steadier on his feet than her brother was. The couple had gone beyond the arm-in-arm stage to actual hand-holding, and Honoria was hoping the next stage may be tonight. She had yet to enjoy her first kiss with the tall, handsome doctor with whom she'd become so smitten.

They followed Charles and Margaret down the first leg of the foot path that wound so intricately through the beautiful foliage. Trapper took an abrupt right, leading Honoria away from her brother and his fiancee.

"We don't need big brother chaperoning, after all, Honoria," he said.

She could see his white teeth in the brilliant moonlight as he turned his charming smile on her. Their eyes adjusted to the dim light and they strolled along, not saying anything, simply enjoying one another's company.

They paused at a small grove of oak trees. Trapper looked around for Charles and Margaret and, not seeing them, pulled Honoria in amongst the grand old trees, the vicinity utterly dark. He trusted that the area would be immaculate under the trees, as the rest of the grounds were, and carefully walked ahead of Honoria until they reached the base of one tree.

"Ah, all alone," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. They slid down the trunk, settling on the ground and leaning back. He pulled her snugly against him, and she cuddled under his arm, resting her hand across his chest. She put her head on his shoulder, taking in the scent of him. She couldn't believe she had finally got to this point, where she could be alone with him, undisturbed and unconcerned about big brother showing up.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, but she remained outwardly calm. She took a calming breath, relaxing even more into John.

Trapper leaned his head against the tree, closing his eyes, holding this lovely lady to him. He had known, early on, that his usual antics with the women of his life wouldn't suit this cultured and refined young woman. He found her fascinating; intelligent and well-educated, pleasing to the eye (he especially loved her soft brown hair and big blue eyes), and TALL too! She had such a delightful laugh, that when she laughed at his jokes and comments, it only made him want to laugh more. He knew, from watching her brother interact with him and Hawkeye, that she too had a subtle sense of humor. He'd been working on her to help her release that. Once she was relaxed around him, he knew the real Honoria Winchester would come through. He bided his time, enjoying the early stages of this courtship.

"Honoria, this has been an amazing evening. I knew I'd see Hawkeye again, but not in such an environment! It was a blast to sit around and laugh like that again, and get to know Charles better."

"Yes, I've had fun watching you all, especially my brother."

Trapper felt her turn to face him.

"But, John, I don't want to talk about my brother right now," she said quietly, expectantly.

He smiled down at her and put his hand on her cheek, moving it down to cup her jawline and throat.

"I don't want to, either, Honoria," and he delicately kissed her mouth, her lips parting for him as she leaned further into his own. The kiss started slowly and gently, but within moments they were kissing deeply and passionately. John had pulled her even closer as she'd turned onto her knees, and soon he had his arms snugly around her narrow waist, her own arms wrapped around his neck.

Honoria's enthusiastic response to that first kiss only confirmed to John what he'd already suspected: that deep down inside this genteel lady of Boston society was a fiery and passionate woman, not afraid to be physical. He didn't want to push too much tonight, and compromise what was developing into a true relationship with her.

They continued kissing for quite some time, losing track of externals like time and surroundings. Honoria allowed Trapper to explore her body more intimately, as she in turn ran her hands over his broad shoulders, down his arms and up again, reveling in the feel of him under her seeking hands and mouth.

The two parted abruptly when they heard a sound off in the distance. Margaret and Charles had made their way around to the grove of trees. John and Honoria paused, holding their breaths, not making a sound.

Charles and Margaret came into view, walking arm-in-arm, talking quietly. They did not seem concerned about where Trapper and Honoria were. When they moved on, the two under the oak tree resumed their kissing and fondling, where they remained for another half-hour.

They emerged, giggling and stumbling out of the brush onto the path. Their eyes were so accustomed to the dark now, with the moonlight helping, that they had no problem finding the light-colored stones shining almost blue in the glow.

John took one more opportunity to kiss Honoria deeply, before they stepped into the light shining from the patio.

He reluctantly pulled away from her sweet mouth, running his thumb along her lower lip. "Honoria, I wanted to kiss you one more time before we rejoin big brother. I'll go to sleep tonight thinking of that delicious mouth of yours."

He kissed her yet again, then put his arm around her shoulder and led them to the start of the path. Charles and Margaret were back on the patio, sipping their beverages. Margaret waved as Trapper and Honoria approached.

Charles smiled at his sister when they'd returned to their earlier seats on the patio, sitting side-by-side once more. "Did you get lost, Honoria?" he asked innocently.

He was rewarded by her blush as she looked down, then back up to him. "No, Charles, we did not get lost."

He laughed, delighted to have caught her out. He suspected the two had gone off somewhere to make out, and her blush, combined with her pouty lips, confirmed this. He didn't mind, of course. He'd got to know Trapper well enough to know that while he could be silly and a cut-up, being a Swamprat, he could also be quite the gentleman when he wished.

Trapper, too, had grown up in a prominent New England family, somewhat a rebel son and going out on his own when he wished, but he knew how to conduct himself when required. McIntyre's earlier act, of asking permission to court Honoria, had been endearing to Charles and precisely the correct way for this younger doctor to get in on big brother's good side. Charles couldn't think of any objection their parents might have to such a courtship.

They sat and talked for a time, then Margaret began to yawn repeatedly. Charles took her cue and stood, helping Margaret from her chair as well.

"John, Honoria, we'll wish you two good evening," he said, and winked at them both. He knew it would not go beyond making out this evening, trusting his sister to behave herself, and McIntyre to be a gentleman.

"Good night, Charles, good night, Margaret," they both said. 


	8. New Avenues

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen"

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Eight. New Avenues.

(Author's Note: This chapter may be borderline M. Every word in this portion can be said on television. If you think what lies ahead may offend you, wait until Chapter Nine is posted and continue from there. This chapter is pretty much PWP.)

Charles walked with Margaret to her bedroom door. He was hoping Margaret wasn't as tired as she'd let on outside.

He looked around. "Since Honoria isn't here to keep an eye on ME, would you mind if I joined you for a time?"

She giggled, "Of course not. She's like a hawk, isn't she? Playing chaperone, like she's your big sister, not little."

She opened the door and kicked her shoes off into the corner. Charles sipped the cognac he'd carried with him from the patio, adding a little more from the bottle tucked under his arm.

"She wants to be sure we maintain a sense of propriety around the help, mind you, but they have all retired for the evening. This may be one of our only chances to be together before Mother and Father return."

"When are they supposed to arrive?" she asked, as they sat down on the edge of her bed. She took his glass and sipped on his cognac, handing it back to him.

"Two days..." he looked at his watch, "Fifteen hours, and counting." He leaned over, kissing her on the mouth and nibbling at the residual cognac on her lip.

"Just one more sip, Charles, and I'll call it good." She sneaked one more gulp, relishing the warmth as it went down her throat. Since she had not drunk alcohol since finding out she was pregnant, the small amount hit her quickly.

Charles kissed her again, lingering on her moistened lip. She'd deliberately left a little bit on her upper lip for him to lick off, his tongue tickling her as it went from that task to moving between her parted lips, dancing so delightfully with her own. She moaned in response, as he pulled her against him.

"Margaret, my darling, you enflame me in so many ways," he muttered, nuzzling the tender curve of her neck. He pulled back, looking into her blue eyes. "Please tell me you're not as tired as you exhibited downstairs! I long to hold you, to make love to you tonight."

She laughed, "No, I'm not as tired as I was playing. I needed to be with you as well."

He stood and pulled her standing, and started to undress her as he so loved to do. The sight of her never failed to thrill him, and he hoped it never would. He was soon done, standing back a little so he could take her in. She smiled, being used to this scrutiny. He put his hand gently on her lower abdomen, giving it a little squeeze.

"You're starting to show already, Margaret," he said, smiling. "Soon, in a month or so, you'll feel our baby kicking within for the first time. He or she has already been swimming around in there."

"I know, I took obstetrical nursing, Charles."

He laughed, "I know, I cannot help myself." His hand languished, relishing the smooth tight skin. He kept it there as he gently pushed her back onto the bed, laying her down. He laid down by her side, hand still on abdomen.

"I cannot help myself in so many ways, when it comes to you, Margaret," he whispered as he leaned over her, kissing her breast. "You are changing in such beautiful ways, my love, it fascinates me to watch you as the weeks go on."

He rubbed his hand back and forth in gentle circles, while kissing her full breast. Reaching behind him to her night-stand, he grabbed the bottle of cognac and carefully allowed a few drops to drip on her tummy, some of it draining into her little navel.

She didn't say a word, merely watching him as he leaned forward to gently lap the cognac off of her, kissing as he moved his mouth across her. He lapped at her bellybutton, kissing around it in circles, making sure he got every succulent drop.

He leaned back on his arm, close to her, and dipped his finger into the bottle. He held the liqueur on his fingertip, then poised it over her breast, allowing the amber liquid to drip down on one rosy tip. Before the little droplets could roll away, he stuck his tongue out, lapping at it, his mouth moving closer to suck it into his waiting lips.

Margaret could keep still no longer after watching his mouth first delicately take her breast, then grasp it almost painfully between his lips and teeth, pulling her flesh into him. She arched her back, moaning.

"Charles!" she panted, writhing her legs back and forth, her arm wrapping around him, pulling him even closer into her.

His hand moved down her abdomen yet again, not stopping this time at the lower portion. He carefully touched her, moving his two fingers back and forth, causing her to arch and sit up. He put his right arm under her as she did, holding her to his ravenous mouth as he nibbled and bit at her delicate flesh.

Margaret longed to touch him as well, and she reached across to loosen his shirt, separating herself from his tantalizing fingers and lips to stand before him, undressing him quickly. She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, as she loved to do, then pulled him back to their original positions.

He kissed her deeply as his fingers resumed their interrupted task. His mouth moved down once more, stopping at one breast, then he leaned across her to pay attention to the other. She leaned her head forward so her mouth could reach her favorite tender spot on his neck, and she did her own nibbling for a time.

Focusing on kissing his neck, and drowning in the sensations coming from his lips, tongue and fingertips, it did not take Margaret long to reach her first climax; Charles was expert at bringing her to such a state over and over.

He'd never been with a woman as responsive as she, and it thrilled him to know he could pleasure her so well and so deeply. That added to his own excitement, and he knew he would not be able to wait long to move into her, as he so wished to do. Charles was nothing if not patient when it came to love-making; much of it was knowing Margaret was enjoying the journey to completion.

She cried out his name, collapsing back on the pillows for a moment, breathless. "Oh, Charles," she sighed, looking down once more as he took her breast into his mouth, sucking and pulling, licking and nipping on it. She put her hand on his head, pushing him hard against her, the excitement again building.

One particularly painful bite made her cry out and sit up. "Charles! Careful, I'm getting sensitive down there!"

He turned to face her, leaning on his elbows and smiling at her. "I'm sorry, my love, you are so magnificent I get carried away!"

She giggled and pushed him over, climbing on top of him. She took the bottle and poured a small amount into her cupped palm, and set the bottle down. She leaned forward, letting the cognac drip onto his chest this time. Bracing herself against his shoulders, she leaned forward, deliberately rubbing her breasts against him, sliding up onto the cognac she'd poured on his broad chest.

She pulled back enough to lap it off of him, sticking her tongue out so he could watch her motions, lapping and licking back and forth. She could tell from his movements that she was affecting him deeply, and he moaned, "Margaret, my love..."

"Hmmm mmmm?" she asked, kissing and lapping her way up to his throat. "Shhhh, I don't want to miss a single drop."

He could no longer stand it, and grabbed her under her arms, powerfully lifting her to him, her breasts in front of his mouth as he greedily licked the cognac off them, going from one to the other. He drowned himself in her roundness, his tongue licking between the two as he got every sticky patch of the remaining sweetness.

She braced herself past his shoulders, arched back so he could access her fully with his seeking lips and tongue. Held thus, Charles was free to move his hands down her bare back to her backside, grasping her tightly to him, moving himself underneath her teasingly. She felt him pressed so close to her below, close but not quite, and she moaned in response. His fingers moved underneath and between her legs, teasing her delicate spot once more, his mouth continuing its magic.

She shrieked his name as he again brought her to release, so soon after the first time.

"CHARLES!" she cried, pulling away from him abruptly.

He smiled and said, "I'm glad these old houses have extremely thick walls, Margaret, the way you scream!" He loved that she was a screamer; it boosted his male pride to know he could illicit such a response from his woman.

She sat back on him, "I'm glad you can make me scream!" She reached over to the bottle of cognac, picking it up. She grinned at him seductively. "Speaking of which, I'm going to make you scream like you've never done before, Charles Emerson Winchester the Third."

She stood up and ordered him to scoot back against the pillows, into a semi-reclining position. She walked to the door and locked it, and turned back to face him, leaning against the door as she looked at him.

He couldn't help but be curious about what she had in mind. He arched his eyebrows, not saying a word.

Bottle in hand, she slowly walked back to him. "Tonight, Charles, we try something new."

That really surprised him. Perhaps they'd be exploring those other avenues he'd thought about before?

She got to the bedside, and climbed over his strong thighs, straddling him. Eyes locked with his, she reached into the bottle with two fingers, as he'd done earlier, and carefully kept the cognac from dripping off them. She set the bottle down once more, and proceeded to drip the cognac along the length of him.

He gasped when he realized what she was going to do. Oh my GOD, is she...? The thought trailed off. Charles came close to losing it then and there, at the mere thought of it. She deliberately told me to sit back. She doesn't want me to miss the show, he thought, already almost lost to reason and she had not even begun!

Placing her hands alongside his hips, staring into his brilliantly glowing blue eyes, she slowly leaned forward, bringing her parted lips closer and closer to him. She delicately touched her lips to him for that first delicious sweet taste, kissing him, sucking the amber liquid into her mouth before it could drip off. She moved her mouth up to the end and back again, over and over, lapping her tongue along the sides to be sure she got every tiny drop.

As her explorations proceeded, she moved her hands under his upper thighs and buttocks, and surprised him when she gave a strong yank, pulling him closer to her. She hadn't QUITE opened her mouth completely around him, not ready to go that far, but she worshipped him, explored him with tongue and lips and eyes. She was thorough in her ministrations and got every stray drop of cognac, finally pulling back to her earlier sitting position on his thighs, smiling at the look on his face.

Charles tensed all over when he saw her parted lips approach him, slowly and seductively. He lost his mind when she made contact, falling back onto the pillows and closing his eyes so he could plant the memory of this moment into his brain forever. A small portion of him remained sane, conscious of his body's response, not wanting to react too soon or prematurely. The feel of her soft fiery lips on him, the wet delicate touch of her tongue, was almost too much. He gasped when he felt her hands reach under him and yank, pulling him even closer to her. He opened his eyes to watch once more as her tongue went up and down the side and length of him, lapping and nipping at the stickiness of the cognac.

He lay motionless for seemingly an eternity when she sat back on his thighs, smiling down at him, waiting to see how he'd respond.

He showed her. The adrenalin and excitement were overwhelming, and Charles grabbed her again under the arms, lifting her easily into the air as he stood. His strength surprised and excited her, and she gasped, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and her legs firmly around his hips. He turned her around, falling back onto the bed with her, Margaret still clinging tightly to him.

She shifted so he had easy access to her, and he slammed into her, holding her thighs as she'd extended her legs into the air. As he powerfully thrust forward, he'd pull her toward him, driving as deeply into her as he could. He loved to watch her face as he took her so roughly, the rapture building in her once again, as it always did. Her eyes were closed, head back, as he rocked them both back and forth, faster and faster, the rhythm and his strong hands gripping her bringing on yet another climax.

The sight of her parted lips reached into him as he pictured them on him once more, retrieving every recalcitrant dribble of cognac. He felt the tension building as he finally and totally abandoned himself to the feeling of her, the sounds she was making, and with a powerful thrust he reached his own ecstasy and release, screaming out her name as he did so.

He literally fell when he'd finished, cognizant enough to fall to her side, both pairs of feet dangling over the edge of the bed on which he'd held her. He draped one arm across her chest and snuggled up against her neck, her hair wet from the heat of their passion on this warm summer night. He gasped against her, unable to speak.

They lay together like that for a few moments, not saying a word. Charles found the energy to move and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his love. He reached out to soothingly stroke her thigh, the skin red from where he'd gripped her so hard.

"You were right, my love, you made me scream like I had never screamed before," he said, bending over to kiss the marks on her thigh in apology. "Did I hurt you, Margaret? You've got a bruise starting on your thigh."

She sat up and kissed him on the shoulder and upper arm, holding him to her. "When you hurt me, I'll be certain to let you know, Charles."

He smiled at her, "All right, darling."

She yawned and crept back under the light cover, lying against the huge pillows. "Are you going to stay with me tonight, sweetheart? Or sneak back to your wing of the mansion?"

He stood and looked out the window to the patio below. McIntyre and Honoria were there, sitting shoulder to shoulder, heads touching.

He turned to his clothes and began to dress. "I hate to leave you, Margaret, but perhaps now would be my chance to escape. Honoria and McIntyre are still on the patio talking apparently."

He finished dressing quickly and went to her, bending down to kiss her. "I hate leaving you, my love, but if I require Honoria to behave herself, then I must do the same to set an example. I hope we have one more opportunity to make love before Mother and Father return!"

She hugged him to her. "Sure, love 'em and leave 'em Winchester, I get ya! Trust me, darling, I think that session alone will hold us over for at least a few days while we recover!"

He went to the door, looking at his love one last time before he retired to his own bed. "I shall fall asleep, dreaming of those wonderful lips and that mouth of yours, my love, remembering the cognac." He blew her a kiss and was gone. 


	9. Mr and Mrs Winchester

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" 

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Nine. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester.

Charles rolled over, yelling at Honoria, when he heard her harsh knock on the door.

"Go away!"

"Ch-charles, please, open the door. PLEASE!" she said desperately. He heard her try the doorknob, but he'd locked it behind him, as was his habit since he was a small child.

He groaned as he climbed out of bed and drew on his robe. He staggered to the door, threw the lock aside, and continued into the bathroom.

Honoria ran in, and went immediately to his bedroom window, looking outside.

"What is it?" he called from the bathroom.

"You won't believe this." She looked at her watch. "You've got thirty-five minutes, I'd s-s-say."

He returned a few moments later. "What on earth are you going on about, Honoria? What is so dire that you had to wake me up?" he asked as he sat down to pull on his slippers.

"M-mother just called from Logan Airport."

"WHAT?" he exclaimed, jumping up and running to the window as well.

"Sh-sh-she and Father g-got an early fl-flight from London," she said, sitting down to take a breath. Calm down, Honoria, YOU haven't done anything wrong, she thought.

The two suddenly felt like naughty teenagers, having had free reign of the house until Mother and Father got home.

Charles wasted no time. He didn't walk, he ran, to Margaret's room on the other side of the mansion.

He tapped a couple times on her door and walked in. She was sleeping when he went in, and he ran to her side, kneeling down.

"Margaret, my love, wake up," he said, gently shaking her shoulder. "Margaret!"

He leaned over her, kissing her softly on the mouth.

"Hmmmmm," she said, stretching. "What is it, Charles? Why'd you wake me up? I am so tired."

"Margaret, I hate to say this, but... Mother and Father are on their way home from the airport as we speak."

That woke her up. She sat up in bed, and responded as he did only moments ago. "WHAT?" It was like he'd said "Incoming wounded!"

The adrenalin gave her the boost she needed to get up and into the bathroom. She attended to her personal needs, pinned her hair up, turned on the shower and jumped in. All within two minutes. Charles was impressed by her alacrity.

He started rummaging through her clothes, looking for the appropriate outfit for her to wear. Something light and comfortable, but tasteful. They'd bought her an assortment of lovely summer dresses. He chose the sea-green dress with the sandals to match and set them on her bed.

Margaret finished her shower with amazing speed as well, being used to short military showers when necessary. Within minutes, the two of them were dressed and running downstairs to the dining room, where breakfast was already being served.

Honoria had made the rounds, because everyone was already there, dressed and looking as well as they could. Dr. Pierce, Hawkeye, Trapper John and Honoria were enjoying their after-breakfast coffee. Hawkeye and Trapper had picked up where they had left off, laughing and cutting up. They took turns subtly teasing Honoria, who would blush prettily and giggle. Daniel Pierce was content to simply sit and listen to the younger doctors and Charles' adorable little sister.

"You t-two had better get st-started," Honoria cried out when her brother and Margaret entered.

Charles got his plate of food, Margaret took her usual dry toast and tea, adding a banana, and they sat together near the end of the long table.

Charles leaned over to whisper to Margaret. "Just eat breakfast and wait for them. This is as good a place to greet them as anywhere else, with our friends and Honoria here."

She nodded in agreement and continued eating. The toast was helping to settle her nervous stomach. She was determined not to be terrified of meeting Charles' parents. She remembered what he'd said before, that one way or the other, he was marrying her. It would work out, just like it did the night they talked about her possibly being pregnant.

Charles heard the door opening and leaned over to kiss Margaret. "Time to face the music, so to speak. You wait here, darling."

He rose and motioned to Honoria to stay seated by McIntyre. "I'll greet them, Honoria, you wait here."

He walked down the corridor to the foyer slowly and quietly, watching his mother and father as they handed their bags and jackets to Rogers. Charles felt detached, almost surreal, as he moved closer. They still had not noticed his presence. Here he had not seen them for almost three years, and he was not rushing into his mother's arms as one would expect a returning son to do.

His mother, glancing toward the left, caught his eye and exclaimed, "CHARLES!" She ran to him and put her hands on his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss him soundly. He wrapped his arms around her small frame, pulling her close, taking in the scent of the perfume she'd favored since before he was born.

The fragrance of her perfume and the sound of her voice cooing in his ear were too much, and Charles cried onto his mother's shoulder, surprising her and himself both with his response. The distant and detached attitude was gone once she ran to him so joyfully. He wasn't really sure how his parents would react at seeing him after so long.

They held one another for several moments, until Charles heard his father clearing his throat.

"Lilian? Might I have the chance to greet our son as well?" he asked kindly.

She separated herself from Charles, still keeping her arm around his waist, as Mr. Winchester reached out to take his hand, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Son, it's wonderful to have you home again," he said, smiling. He pulled back, not letting go of the younger Charles' hand, and looked his son up and down.

"You look remarkably well for having been through God only knows what overseas, Charles," he said approvingly.

Charles was so overwhelmed by his father's warm greeting (much warmer than he'd expected) that he put his free arm over his father's shoulder and pulled him in, close to himself and his mother. The three stood thus for a few moments; Charles could not believe their reunion was going so well. He'd been nervous about what this moment would hold, knowing from past experience how distant his father could be.

"Dad...," he muttered against his father's shoulder. "It's wonderful to be home. I'm so glad you two returned early." And he meant it, too.

Mr. Winchester's eyebrows went up. Dad? That was one word he rarely heard from his son. He was rather pleased with it. For so long, Charles and Honoria had usually called him "Father," always sounding so formal. I think being in Korea has changed him, he thought.

Charles pulled back, one hand on each parent's shoulder, and he smiled at them both. "Mother, Father, we have guests in the dining room. Friends from the 4077th are here, as well as Dr. Daniel Pierce from Maine. He came down when my friend Hawkeye came in at Logan yesterday."

"Oh, Daniel's here, how marvelous!" Lilian exclaimed. She looked down the corridor, in the direction of the dining area. "We will be there shortly, Charles, allow your father and me to go freshen up from our trip."

Charles kissed his mother's cheek, smiling down at her. "Yes, of course, Mother. If we are not in the dining room, we shall be out on the patio, when you two are ready to come meet everyone."

Charles had a sparkle in his eye his mother wondered about. How many people are there to meet? she thought. "All right, son, we'll be back directly."

Honoria beamed at her brother when he'd returned, his face lit up with the joy of his reunion with his parents.

"Charles? It went well then?"

He returned to his seat by Margaret, still smiling ear-to-ear. "Remarkably well, Honoria, far better than I would expect." He looked significantly at Hawkeye. "He wasn't 12,000 miles away."

Hawkeye smiled in response, nodding his head. He understood, remembering the conversation he and Charles had had in Klinger's office, while Pierce had waited to hear news of his father's surgery. Charles had told him, "I may have a father, but you have a DAD!" The thought had saddened Charles deeply. "I could be in the same room with my father, and still be 12,000 miles away."

After his life-threatening experience two months before the armistice, Charles had decided that there were too many precious moments and opportunities being wasted by worry and familial distance, and had determined he was going to make a change when he returned to Boston. That change had already begun, and his parents' positive responses to his loving overtures at their reunion boosted his confidence that they would like and approve of Margaret.

"They will be here shortly. They wanted to freshen up from their travels before meeting everyone." He looked at his guests and Honoria. "If you are all finished, I told Mother and Father we'd meet them out on the patio."

Everyone stood, picking up their beverages, and followed Charles outside. It was a glorious August morning, already showing signs of being a scorcher in the making. Charles was glad the patio was in the cool shade at this time of the morning, the sun threatening to burst over the side of the mansion within the hour.

They sat and chatted amongst themselves. Margaret glanced to the patio door every so often, wondering when his parents were going to emerge.

Charles could sense her nervousness, and he patted her reassuringly on her hand. "Do not worry so, darling, it cannot be good for either your stomach or the baby."

She laughed shakily, "Yes, I know, I can't help it. I know one way or the other we're going to do this, I'm just nervous that the time has finally arrived for the Big News to come out. On both counts."

He kissed her hand. "Yes, indeed. By day's end, all will have been revealed and we can move on to making our wedding plans."

Charles stood when his mother came through the patio door, followed by his father. Rogers trailed behind them, standing unobtrusively nearby in case anyone had need of something.

Honoria smiled, "Welcome home, Mother and Father." Her parents smiled back in acknowledgement. Mrs. Winchester looked at the man her daughter was sitting next to, then saw Charles approach.

Charles went to his mother, once more putting his arm around her shoulder. He led her to his friends.

"Mother, you already know Dr. Pierce, of course," he said.

Daniel stood and shook her hand, smiling. "Yes, Lilian, how good to see you and Charles again! You both look well, for having been traveling so long from Europe!" He looked to Mr. Winchester, reaching over the table to shake his hand.

"Daniel, so nice you could join us!" The elder Charles indicated Hawkeye. The resemblance in the eyes was unmistakeable. "So, this is your son of whom we'd heard so much?"

Daniel laughed, putting his hand on Hawkeye's shoulder. Hawkeye stood and shook Mr. Winchester's hand.

"Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Winchester, Mrs. Winchester," he said, smiling winningly at the small woman.

Mr. Winchester looked Hawkeye up and down, frowning. "We've heard so much about you, Dr. Pierce, that we feel we already know you!"

"Ut oh, you've heard about me? Charles, have you been telling lies again?" he demanded, smiling at his bunkmate.

Charles laughed. "No, no lies, only the honest truth, which for you, Pierce, needs no embellishment!"

Hawkeye shrugged in agreement. "That's true, greatness needs no lie."

Trapper groaned next to Honoria, drawing the elder Winchesters' glance to him.

"Yes, Mother and Father, this is Dr. John McIntyre. My acquaintance with him is rather unusual. He is a surgeon on my staff at Boston Mercy, and I found out later that he is also a former surgeon of the 4077th. He was gone prior to my arrival. We both actually shared the same quarters at different times!"

Mrs. Winchester exclaimed, "How extraordinary, Charles! Dr. McIntyre, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Trapper had stood to greet the older woman, and returned her handshake gently. He reached over to Mr. Winchester and shook his hand as well. "Yes, it was rather surprising, I didn't know he'd been at MASH, he didn't know I had been. Hawkeye and Margaret here were both there the whole time, and we found out through them."

Margaret blushed at the mention of her name, and every eye on the patio was on her. Charles went to her side and draped his comforting arm across her shoulder. He could feel the shiver in her muscles, although outwardly she appeared calm as could be.

He and Margaret shared an intimate glance one last time, and Charles leaned down and whispered, "Are you ready?"

She shook her head briefly, reaching nervously for her tea and looking up again, at Charles' parents. They waited expectantly for the next introduction.

"Mother, Father, I would like you to meet Major Margaret Houlihan. I've written to you, and Honoria, about her before." He looked down into her blue eyes once more, as if drawing strength from her, and she rewarded him with that brilliant smile he so loved.

"She and I are engaged to be married," he said simply.

Lilian Winchester gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock. Charles Winchester the elder scowled and looked between the two. The others sat perfectly still, even Hawkeye and Trapper, not saying a word.

An eternity later, Charles' father turned to their guests and Honoria, and said, "If you will excuse us."

He indicated to Charles and Margaret that they should follow him and Mrs. Winchester into the parlour.

"One moment, Father," Charles said, going to Honoria's side. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. She nodded an affirmative and ran back into the house by another entrance.

Charles re-joined his parents and they turned toward the patio entrance to the parlour. After they entered, Mr. Winchester turned and drew the drapes closed, so those on the patio could not see.

Charles took Margaret's hand, kissed it sweetly, and sat down in the love seat, pulling her down next to him. She was amazed at how calm he was; she was shivering inside, hoping the dry toast would stay settled.

He turned to his parents, waiting expectantly for their reaction.

His father turned to face them both, after glancing at his wife momentarily. "Charles, this was rather surprising. Why did you not tell us about this sooner?"

"I have been communicating with Honoria, and had asked her to keep this close and not tell you about it. Margaret and I had some things to work out, not knowing where our friendship and relationship were going. I'd realized how very much I love her, and I told her so as soon as I could speak, after I was shot and wounded."

The blood drained from Mrs. Winchester's face. She knew it he'd been critically wounded, of course, but to see him there, and his mentioning it, brought the image to her consciousness. She staggered back, feeling behind her for something to collapse on.

Charles saw the movement before his father realized she was in distress. Lilian was surprised that her son got to her so fast. She relaxed into his arms, and he half-carried her to the chair.

He felt her pulse, looked into her eyes. "Mother? Are you all right? What happened?"

She nodded her head, gulping. "It finally hit home, dear, seeing you there, that you'd almost died that day. Oh, I cannot even bear to think it, let alone say it."

She looked into her son's eyes, so alive and sparkling, for comfort. He's alive and well, Lilian, she told herself. He's home. He's safe. She put her hand on his cheek.

"Charles, can you...can you show me what happened? I need to know, to see, that you are indeed well."

He pulled the neckline of his shirt to the right and down, showing the scar of the pneumothorax. She touched it softly with two fingers, feeling the flesh healed and the muscle underneath. He then lifted his shirt to reveal the scar from the liver wound.

"It doesn't hurt?"

He smiled tenderly at her concern. "Not at all, Mother. I'm perfectly capable of doing everything I did before. I've stood for hours, both in Korea and here, doing surgery. It has not affected my nerves, muscles nor my dexterity in any way." He indicated Margaret. "She is one reason why I healed so well, Mother. Both her nursing, and for our love of one another. I knew I had much to live for."

His father interjected, "Is that why you are so fond of her? For her nursing you back to health?"

Charles went back to Margaret's side. He could sense she was seething, and knowing her so well, he knew why. They were talking about her as if she were not there, and as if her opinion in any of this counted for naught.

"Father, I came to realize that I've cared about Margaret for quite some time, many months before we both realized those feelings were there. I had been put in command, and she and I were working closely together, and well..." he shrugged. "Something clicked."

Mr. Winchester's eyebrows went up. "YOU were in command of the 4077th?"

Margaret finally had to speak up. "Yes, Mr. Winchester. Your son was Second-in-Command of the 4077th. You weren't aware of that?" She smiled at Charles then turned back to his father. "He's actually quite good at it, sir. Very good."

He stammered, "I...I guess I never thought about it. I assumed there were others there of a higher rank. I thought he was there in the capacity of a surgeon, not a commander."

"Yes, sir, he was. Our CO, Colonel Potter, was also a surgeon, as was the CO before him."

"I see. So, Charles, it was during this time of command, that you two discovered one another? You were already friends?"

"Yes. She was the Head Nurse of the unit, and the only other Major. When the CO went to work at Battalion Aide, I was put in command. I called on Margaret's assistance, from her own experience as a commanding officer. That is when we realized there was something more than friendship and being comrades-in-arms, as it were."

"This was also during the time in which you were wounded?" he asked. He also found it difficult to articulate, and couldn't bring himself to say "shot" or "almost died."

"Yes, Father. Margaret and I had been dancing, and we'd heard Colonel Flagg, a CIA operative in our sector, had captured four Chinese prisoners-of-war. I, Margaret, Dr. Pierce and others went out to meet him at the camp boundary. The Colonel was shot, and dropped his rifle. One of the prisoners, the one closest to him, grabbed Flagg's firearm, turned to aim at us, and I dove in front of Margaret when I saw the barrel aiming at her."

Margaret paled, remembering that night and how close she and Charles had both come to death.

His father bluntly stated, "You took the bullet for Miss Houlihan then?"

"Yes, I did, and I would again. It was when I was recovering from surgery, when she was by my side the whole time, holding my hand, that I realized I wanted her with me forever. So I have asked her to marry me and be my wife."

Charles had a look of determination on his face as he returned his father's steady gaze. This was it, he thought. This is the show-down.

Mr. Winchester turned to his wife, and they looked at each other for a moment.

He turned back to Charles. "One moment, son." He sat down next to his wife and they talked for a moment.

"Son, your mother and I think this is very sudden. Do you have a date in mind? Don't you think it would look more proper if you courted for at least a year?"

Margaret and Charles exchanged another glance. Charles looked back up to his parents. He took a calming breath, as he'd seen Honoria do. "There is a reason we wish to do this promptly. Margaret is carrying my child."

The elder Winchester's neutral demeanour changed suddenly, and he exploded to his feet. "I KNEW it! THAT is why she wants to marry you! Trap you into something with a CHILD!" He glared at Margaret, for having the temerity to do this to his family and their good name.

Charles stood and moved behind Margaret, resting his hands on her shoulders and giving her a comforting squeeze. He didn't say a word while his father ranted and raved at him, Margaret and even Mrs. Winchester for raising a son like this.

Charles waited, outwardly patient, yet inwardly growing angrier and angrier at his father. When his father paused to take a breath and gather his thoughts for the next line of invective, Charles spoke up.

"Father."

He turned sharply to face his son, daring him to say something untoward. "WHAT? This is COMPLETELY unacceptable, Charles!"

"FATHER!" Charles raised his voice over his father, somehow managing to keep the anger in check. "I am marrying Margaret, one way or the other. This baby is very much wanted BY US BOTH! I am a doctor, Father, I suspected before Margaret even mentioned it that she may be with child. I had to convince HER to marry ME, not the other way around! I told her that I'd already planned on asking her, and this merely made the moment the obvious one."

Charles was interrupted by the sound of Honoria running down the corridor. She burst in, waving a letter in the air.

"Here it is, Ch-charles," she exclaimed.

Charles took the letter, opened it and handed it to his father. "See? June 1st. I wrote to Honoria and told her I was going to ask Margaret to marry me. This was almost two weeks after I was shot. She and I had come to an understanding about our feelings before that incident. So this was certainly not out of the blue. In fact, we regret now that we had waited so long, denying how we felt."

His father read the letter over a couple of times, and handed it to Charles' mother. She read it too, then Honoria took it from her.

Charles' parents looked at one another again, resolution on their faces. Mr. Winchester turned back to them.

He looked at Margaret. "Do you love my son?"

She smiled at him, and unashamedly said, "Yes, I do, Mr. Winchester. With all my heart."

"And you love her, Charles?"

"Yes, Father. She is my life. When we received confirmation that she was pregnant, I never thought I could feel such joy."

"I see. Well, seeing as this is the situation, we must deal with it. It is fortunate you thought to write to your sister, at least, to tell her."

"Father, we don't want only your acceptance of the inevitable. We'd like your and Mother's blessing as well."

"Yes, Charles, you have our blessing. A grandchild does sound wonderful," Mrs. Winchester spoke up finally. She went to her son and future daughter-in-law. She sat next to Margaret, holding her hand.

"How far along are you, Margaret?"

"We estimate about two months, maybe 10 weeks. I've scheduled my first doctor's appointment this week."

She gasped. "This week? Charles! We must get you two married as soon as possible, before she begins to visit baby doctors!"

"Why not do it tomorrow?" he asked, knowing how his mother would react.

"TOMORROW? Oh, dear," she leaned back on the love seat, thinking. "My first child is finally getting married, and I cannot throw the wedding of the century to commemorate it! There's so much to do, Charles!"

"No, Mother, there is not. Margaret and I got our license our first week back. We can call the minister, and he can come by in the afternoon. Margaret and I do not need an elaborate ceremony to seal our union. You and she, and Honoria, can sit and plan a reception, where we may present my bride to Boston society in the proper manner."

His mother thought about that. That WOULD be fun, planning this with Honoria and her soon-to-be new daughter.

Charles continued, "We have witnesses. Dr. McIntyre and the Pierces can remain for the ceremony. It will be a small, intimate wedding with our friends from the 4077th in attendance. You may call family and friends, if you wish, assuming they can arrange to be here tomorrow afternoon."

She stood and smiled at them, and turned to Honoria. "With your help, we should be able to do this, Honoria."

His little sister beamed at them both. "Yes, Mother, that will be grand!"

Margaret couldn't help herself and laughed when Honoria smiled at them. She knew what Honoria was aching to say.

Margarted waved at Honoria. "Okay, Honoria, you and Charles stuck to what I asked, you get to tell them this news."

"There is more news?"

Honoria took her calming breath. This was going to shock her parents, and she loved it. "Mother, Father, Charles and Margaret wanted your approval and blessing BEFORE you knew this next little tidbit. Seems Margaret's a Spencer, of Gregory Hill in Hartford."

"WHAT?" they said in chorus.

Honoria couldn't help it, and laughed out loud, taking another long breath. "YES, Mother, isn't it amazing how that worked out! She grew up visiting her Grandma Spencer of Hartford. Her mother's maiden name is Spencer. She was born in California, but her family has ties in New England. That's how she knew Dr. Robert Fuller, whom she contacted about Charles working at the hospital! Her contact didn't GET him the job, mind you, but merely brought Charles' information to Dr. Fuller's attention." She beamed again at the couple, especially Charles. She knew he'd hated people thinking Margaret had GOT him the job.

Everyone paused, digesting all that had been discussed. Charles desperately wanted a drink. He waved Rogers to him and whispered in his ear. The butler nodded and left.

Charles put his hands on Margaret's shoulders once more.

"So, Mother? Father? We are in agreement then? We will contact the minister at our church to come by tomorrow afternoon, say about 4:00?"

"Yes, Charles," his mother said, now that they had this understanding. It may be small and intimate, but she had so many details about the wedding she needed to attend to. "You and Margaret relax for the day, Honoria and I can make all of the arrangements for you! Do you have rings yet?"

"Yes, we got them in Tokyo, in anticipation of being married as soon as possible, after talking to you two."

"That's fine, then, Charles. We'll take care of it."

Margaret stood and went to Honoria. "Honoria, I haven't known you long, but I'd love it if you'd be my Maid of Honor. Charles would love to have you up there as well."

The younger woman stood and hugged her, "Oh, M-margaret, I'd b-be honored!"

"If you'll excuse me a moment, I must place a phone call." Charles went to the study, where he could talk privately.

He returned a few minutes later. "Mother, put two adults and a small child down on your list for guests."

He smiled at Margaret. "I just called Hunnicutt. He, Peg and Erin will be here by Noon tomorrow."

Her face lit up as she went to hug him, "Oh, Charles, that's WONDERFUL! I only wish we'd had time to call the others, but this will have to do. We can always see them at the reception, or maybe a one-year reunion next August, when they can meet our baby!"

He excused them to his parents and sister, and they burst out onto the patio, smiles lighting their faces. Hawkeye, Daniel and Trapper didn't have to guess on how it turned out.

Margaret exclaimed, "We're going to be married tomorrow, and we want all of you to stay, if you can, to join us!"

Trapper and Hawkeye both stood to plant kisses on Margaret's flushed cheeks. Dr. Pierce stood and shook Charles' hand. "I'm glad, son, I thought I'd have to go in and convince your folks!"

He laughed, "No, sir, we were convincing." He turned to Hawkeye.

"Pierce...Hawkeye...I'd like you to stand with me, at the altar, if you would."

"I'd be honored, Charles. Imagine me, your best man!"

Charles laughed. "No, I didn't say THAT, Pierce!"

"What did you mean, then?"

"I cannot have TWO best men, now can I?"

"Two? You and Trap, well... you just met!"

"I didn't mean McIntyre. We have a guest coming in tomorrow Noon."

Hawkeye looked at him, curiosity on his face.

"HUNNICUTT will be here, Hawkeye, you BOTH will stand with Margaret and me!"

(Author's note: Chapter Ten will skip to post-wedding day, sort of capping up the highlights, and then on to the Berkshires for the short honeymoon. Trapper's going to cover for Charles for a couple days at the hospital. Stay tuned for more.)


	10. Dr and Mrs Winchester

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" 

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Ten. Dr. and Mrs. Winchester.

Lilian Winchester relaxed comfortably into her high-backed antique chair, watching the festivities. She had had a very exciting two days, a whirlwind of activity that had culminated in her oldest child marrying a woman whom he obviously loved with all his heart and soul.

She and her husband had no sooner returned from their European summer holiday when they'd greeted their returning hero, Charles Emerson Winchester III, and met his friends from his unit in Korea. The biggest surprise was meeting the woman he'd asked to marry him, the woman who was carrying their first grandchild.

Mrs. Winchester smiled as she watched her son and her new daughter-in-law dance gracefully across the floor in the grand parlour, which had been converted into the wedding reception area. The pre-reception, she thought. She, Honoria and the new Mrs. Winchester had major plans for a proper reception within the month, to present Dr. and Mrs. Winchester to their Boston society friends and acquaintances.

Once she and her husband, and Charles and Margaret, had aired all of their concerns, the older Winchesters had agreed to this marriage, and Lilian had given her blessing to them. She'd noticed the lack of response from her husband when her son had asked for their blessing, but the mere fact he did not object to the marriage was a beginning. She knew once their first grandchild presented him or herself, Lord willing, her husband's attitude would change.

Lilian could find no reason to object to Margaret. She was of the Hartford Spencers, after all. That fact alone would have been sufficient. However, Charles had assured his parents that he had already planned on marrying her, child or not, Spencer or not. Her son had told her, in an aside so Margaret and Charles Sr. would not hear, that Margaret, caught up in her love of Charles and thinking about their baby, had forgotten that he was from a prominent and wealthy New England family. He said his fiancee would have been content with a house and child in the suburbs, with them working together at Boston Mercy Hospital.

It is obvious they are utterly in love, she thought, still smiling as she watched her son lead Margaret expertly around the floor. He and Honoria had picked a variety of music, to suit the tastes of both bride and groom. The family and friends present had already enjoyed watching the newlyweds dirty-boogie across the floor to some fine old Glenn Miller, everyone laughing and clapping, egging them on. Lilian thought she'd burst with love, seeing her son so incredibly happy and playing along with his friends from his old unit.

Drs. Pierce and Hunnicutt, along with his new acquaintance Dr. McIntyre, were clearly the center of Charles' and Margaret's attentions. He was so recently home that they were a safe-port for him, people with whom he could relax and be silly. Lilian knew that Charles had not had a chance to truly take Margaret around Boston to see his old friends, having immediately started his new post as Chief of Thoracic Surgery at Boston Mercy. Yet another source of pride for Mrs. Winchester, that Charles had achieved so much on his own, without influential help of the Winchester and Emerson families.

He would have left all of this behind for her, Lilian knew. He would have done fine on his own, with his own career and Margaret's as well. She was so happy that her husband and she, and the newlyweds, had not got to the point where that will and resolve had to be put to the test!

Hawkeye, BJ and Trapper called out to them as Charles and Margaret swung by, laughing and heckling. Charles simply looked at them and smirked, then his serious face returned. That invoked more laughter from his fellow Swamprats. Margaret looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at them, bringing more chuckles from the nearby people who'd witnessed the exchange.

Charles led Margaret in a wide circle on the floor so they could smile and say hello to their friends and family as they went by. He timed it so the finale of the piece would bring him near his mother, and so they finished near Lilian.

Holding his arm around Margaret's shoulder, he leaned down to kiss his mother on the cheek. He turned to settle Margaret on the chair next to his mother.

Lilian looked up at her son, towering over her small frame. "Charles, that was lovely! It was such a joy watching you two on the dance floor!"

He smiled and took a glass of champagne from a passing server, taking an initial gulp to soothe his parched throat. "Mother, this has been a wonderful day and evening! I do not think we need another reception, none could top this night!"

Lilian waved that impossibility away. "Oh, pooh, you know we have to, Charles, so that everyone may meet the mother of our first grandchild!"

Charles stopped another server, who was carrying a choice of non-alcoholic beverages. He snagged a glass and handed it to Margaret, who gulped it gratefully.

"Are you feeling well, Margaret?" Lilian asked her, concerned that the younger Mrs. Winchester may be overtaxing herself.

"Yes, I'm fine, Mrs. Winchester," Margaret said, putting the now-empty glass on a nearby table. "There will be plenty of time to rest later."

Charles' response to that was a slight cough, as he took another sip of champagne. He looked at Margaret, a twinkle in his eye, and his mother did not miss it.

Lilian laughed delicately, "Well, I'm not too sure, Margaret."

Charles almost choked on the sip, looking at his mother in shock.

"Mother!"

"Charles!" she mimicked, her own blue eyes twinkling at her son's pretense of shock. "Oh, please, Charles, the woman's pregnant, I'm not stupid you know." She winked at Margaret.

He paused a moment, at a loss for words, then smiled at his mother. "If Margaret is tired, then she shall rest, Mother."

Lilian looked at her watch, then at the two. "It IS getting terribly late, Charles, perhaps you two should retire. She is so early in her pregnancy, she should not over-do."

Charles looked at Margaret and knew his mother was right. His new bride was smiling and her face was flushed from their dance, but he could tell she was beginning to feel fatigued.

"Margaret, Mother is right. I think we should retreat from the festivities and get you to bed." He indicated their friends, who were cutting up with Dr. Daniel Pierce and, surprisingly, Mr. Winchester. "They look to have it well in hand. Honoria will see them off later, when they're ready to retire. She doesn't look to be in too much of a hurry, the way she's laughing."

Charles leaned down and kissed his mother's cheek once more. "Good night, Mother, and thank you so much for all the arrangements you and Honoria made for us!"

Margaret patted the woman's hand. "Yes, Mrs. Winchester, it has been a marvelous day and evening! Thank you!"

"You two are quite welcomed. Now, Charles, go take care of your bride!"

"I shall, Mother," he said. He held out his hand for Margaret and pulled her to him. They bade their guests good night, waving at the 4077th contingent who'd stopped in their antics long enough to holler advice to the newlyweds on their first night together as a wedded couple. Charles felt it prudent not to reply one way or the other, rolling his eyes at them. That, of course, brought on more laughter, including from Honoria. Charles smiled at his little sister, who was practically sitting on McIntyre's lap, with their father in close proximity even! That will be something else to ponder in the near future, he thought, leading Margaret out of the big room.

Finally alone, Margaret took Charles' arm and almost collapsed onto him, sighing heavily.

"Are you all right, my love?" he asked kindly, tightening his arm to support her better.

"Physically, yes. Emotionally and mentally, no. I'm drained, Charles. I just want to go to your room... well, OUR room... and collapse."

"Would you like me to carry you?"

"No, no, don't want you to strain anything," she laughed against his arm.

He stopped and turned to face her, drawing her into a deep but brief kiss. "As if I would, Mrs. Winchester!"

"I know, I know," she said. She looked around. It was such an incredibly huge home that just the walk to the central stairway was tiring to think about. "This house gets bigger as one gets more tired, I'm finding out."

Charles laughed, "We could always take the other stairs, you know!"

"Other stairs?"

"Of course, did you think this was it? Come, follow me."

He led her through a portion of the mansion she'd never seen before. His eyes sparkled as he showed her something remarkable. He went to a paneled wall, and PUSHED, and to her amazement, one panel moved aside, revealing a narrow high passageway.

"Wha... " she stopped.

"This is a very old house, Margaret. It was built in the 1700's, when this area was not completely settled. This passage, what we call 'the hide-away,' was built into the house for concealment, in case of trouble with the Indians, or the British troops later."

He guided her into the dim corridor, and she was looking around, her eyes wide.

"Ah, but there is more!" he exclaimed. "Say you're a British soldier looking for rebels, and you find this passageway behind the panel. You look, and there's nobody here!"

He pushed a portion of the wall, revealing a very tiny room, obviously under the staircase they were going to. "Voila! THIS is the real hide-away! A room within a room. They would most likely not think to look further, and leave this little hallway alone."

He led her into the tiny room, more the size of a closet, and she saw him trace his hands on the underside of the winding staircase.

"I will show you this in the daytime, when the sunlight can stream in through the little corridor, but here, under the stairs, you'll see a series of child-like scratchings into the wood. What's remarkable is how high up the scratchings are. This house was part of the Underground Railroad in the 1800's, helping escaped slaves make it to Canada! The scratchings on the wood are where the escaped men and women would practice their letters, as they were learning to read and write!"

"Charles, that's INCREDIBLE!" Her fatigue had dissipated as he told her the history of his home, the home in which he'd grown up. "I never knew these old houses could have such history!"

"Yes, and this house has been in my family for generations. I must show you the old documents and books in our master library some day, which outlines more history of the estate and this area of Boston."

They turned back into the tiny corridor, and continued to the other side. He pushed the panel out, then closed it back in its proper position after Margaret followed him. He indicated the door next to him.

"This stairway used to lead to the servants' quarters, when the house was first built. They now reside in a more modern portion of the mansion, so it only leads to a room we use for storage."

As they emerged on the second floor, Margaret looked around, still in unfamiliar territory.

"I'm lost, Charles, I can't get my bearings."

He laughed, "Don't worry, Margaret, you'll learn. We'll go exploring the entire mansion soon, so you can familiarize yourself with it."

They were soon at his bedroom door. Without warning, he picked Margaret up into his arms.

"I have to carry you over the threshhold, after all, don't I?" he asked, kissing her as he stepped into their room. He kicked the door closed behind him, kissing her a second time. "Mrs. Winchester!"


	11. Echoing Thunder and Then All Was Hush'd

"Visions of the Things to Be: After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen"

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Eleven. Echoing Thunder and Then All Was Hush'd.

(Author's Note: It's the beginning of their honeymoon. It's borderline "M" too. Go figure. As previously, every word in this chapter can be said on American TV. Wait a couple chapters if you find this stuff offensive, because the next one's going to continue at the summerhouse in the Berkshires. Heh.)

Charles kissed Margaret, still in his arms, as he kicked their bedroom door closed behind them. He carried her to his bed, freshly made for this special evening, and laid her down gently, continuing the fluid motion until he was kneeling on the floor by her side.

He didn't say a word; he was content to gaze into his wife's eyes as she sleepily blinked at him, a soft smile on her face. He gently stroked the hair away from her face, leaning in to kiss her once more.

He smiled sweetly at her as he continued to touch her face, her hair. "You really are too tired to make love tonight, aren't you, my love?"

"I really am, Charles," she said, regret in her voice. "I'm so sorry."

"That's all right, Margaret, I understand. It's more important that you rest, after the excitement and exertion of the day. You sleep as long as you need to, and in the morning, when you are ready, we will drive out for our little honeymoon in the Berkshires, just you and me. Rogers will be certain the car is fully loaded with all of our necessities, and you and I will enjoy a glorious week there, alone. No servants, no phone, nothing to disturb us."

"You didn't have trouble getting the time off, so soon after starting?"

He laughed softly, "No, of course not. Dr. Fuller was happy to give you AND me the time together. He is quite taken with you still, Margaret, having had this chance to reacquaint himself with you and your family. This was his wedding gift to us, he said. He and McIntyre arranged the schedule so I may be off without having to worry during our time together."

She pulled herself back, resting against the pile of pillows that swallowed that end of the bed. "So you and McIntyre seem to be hitting it off better. You never even mentioned his name at first, or else I would've known about him before your welcoming reception that Friday!"

"Yes, I must admit, once we came to realize we'd both been at the 4077th and had shared many of the same experiences, it all sort of fell into place. I'd heard so much about the infamous 'Trapper John' from Pierce that I felt I already knew him! He and Hunnicutt sort of had the same thing going." He thought for a moment. "I wonder if that will happen if I ever meet Frank Burns."

She blushed and looked down at her hands. "Um... I don't think I want to talk about Frank Burns on my wedding night, Charles."

He laughed his understanding and kissed her cheek in apology. "I'm sorry, love, you're right."

He stood to retrieve two over-sized sleeping shirts from his dresser, and tossed her one. "These should be cool and comfortable for sleeping in, Margaret."

She stood up and began the long process of unfastening her reception dress. It wasn't quite as elaborate as the wedding gown Honoria and Mrs. Winchester had found for her, but it was close.

"This thing must have at least twenty buttons!" she exclaimed.

Charles quickly changed into his sleeping shirt, relishing the comfort after having worn a tuxedo all day and evening.

"Here, let me help, you stand there."

He continued where she'd left off, slowly separating the dress as he worked his way down. The buttons led past her waistline, and by the time he got to the bottom of the column, his hands had separated the front of the dress, revealing her almost-round tummy and navel. His fingers couldn't resist running along the inside of the lacy band of her hip-high panties.

He knelt in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to his lips, kissing her gently up and down, drawing his tongue around her little bellybutton.

"Charles..." she started, resting her hands behind his head.

"Yes, Margaret?" he murmured as his tongue and lips continued trailing across the tight flesh of her belly.

"Darling, I don't think I can make love tonight."

"I know. You don't have to do anything, I'm enjoying this."

He felt her abdominal muscles under his lips as she chuckled. "All right, just didn't want you to be disappointed."

"Oh, trust me, I shan't be. We have the rest of our lives to make love, my sweet," he said. He stood to face her again, his hands slipping under the shoulders of the dress, sliding the garment off of her. He pulled back to look at her, the rosy-pink lacy bra and panties enhancing her beautiful smoothe white skin and platinum hair. "Oh, Margaret, I cannot tell you how beautiful you are to me!"

He reached behind her and snapped her bra open, slowly pulling it off her arms as he gazed down at her. He leaned down to kiss each full breast, her figure getting rounder as her weeks of pregnancy had continued. Charles loved watching the changes in Margaret, fascinated as a doctor would be in the way she was blossoming, the new life continuing to grow within. He put his hand on her belly, rubbing gently, as he pushed her back onto the bed.

He said softly as she lay back, her feet on the floor, "All you need to do, Margaret, is lie there and relax. Fall asleep if you wish, I shall tend to your needs."

She nodded her head, smiling, and closed her eyes. She was so utterly relaxed that she thought she WOULD fall asleep!

Charles merely stood there for a few moments, gazing down at his new wife. Such love and joy rose up in him, that his eyes began to water in response. She is so magnificent, he thought, and she's mine.

He knelt down once more, between her knees, gazing at her from this new angle. The soft lighting from the lamps in his room gave her a magical glow. Starting near her ankles, he began to massage her legs, slowly and gently, back and forth. His large sensitive hands and fingers dug into her flesh, kneading the muscles of her calves, then moved slowly up the side to her thighs. He lingered there for a moment, relishing the feel of the muscle underneath. She was in wonderful health, and he loved touching her shapely legs.

His hands continued to her full hips, and he massaged her once more. Baby-making hips, he smiled to himself. The doctor in him couldn't help but ponder such things. She'll certainly not have a problem with delivery, he was happy to admit, not with those hips! He rested his hands there for a moment, remembering all the times they'd made love, him gripping her roughly as their motions matched so perfectly.

He ran his fingers under the delicate lace once more, where thigh met hip, enjoying the play of light and shadow on the iridescent satin. He hooked his fingers over the waistline and slowly, slowly, began to draw them off of her. She was most definitely awake, he realized, as she scooched a little bit to ease the process.

He took another few moments to examine her revealed flesh, his hands moving closer to her inner thighs, feeling the muscles twitch beneath in response. It pleased him to know a mere touch from him could make her quiver so. He moved his thumbs along that delicate inner area, getting intimately closer, but not quite, then moving back toward her knees. Back and forth he went, watching his own hands on her smooth muscular thighs.

He couldn't resist any longer; he had to touch her with more than hands and fingers. He lifted her legs, and put one over each shoulder, so he could move in close to her.

Margaret gasped, "What are you DOING, Charles?"

"Shhhh, you're supposed to be relaxing!" he murmured as he scooted closer, pulling on her legs, bringing her closer to the edge of the bed. He moved his gaze and his mouth to her inner thigh.

Beginning with the knee on his left shoulder, he very gently began to kiss her, nipping at the flesh, describing tiny circles on her skin with his tongue. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation, listening to the occasional gasp coming from Margaret. He slowly moved down the length of her inner thigh, until he could go no further, and his tongue played on her inner flesh, teasingly, not quite daring to enter. He kissed and gently bit her skin where thigh met torso, and oh so delicately moved across her, his nose brushing against her tenderness, to meet the other thigh. He began kissing and nipping on the smooth skin once more, working his way up to the knee held over his right shoulder.

All during this exploratory, Margaret's gasps came louder and more frequently. When he'd finished and reached the right knee, he moved from between her legs and lay down beside her, resting his hand on her breast, smiling at the look on her face. Her eyes were still closed, mouth partly opened from gasping at the wonders his lips and tongue had done.

She didn't move, she didn't speak. Charles was beginning to think she had fallen asleep from his relaxing massage and delicate work on her flesh. He tweaked her where his hand was resting to test her response.

In a flash, he knew she was completely awake. As if the little tweak was a switch, Margaret moved. Without a word, she was up and on him, lifting his nightshirt, pleased to see he wore nothing else. Good. Made it easier to do...

THIS! And she plunged herself down on him, screaming out as she'd longed to do during his explorations.

Charles barely had time to gasp as she impaled herself on him, slamming down so hard it was almost painful. He grabbed her hips and they soon found their rhythm, her moving up and down, faster and harder. His feet braced on the floor, he thrust up to meet her downward plunges, over and over.

It was so intense, so rough, that it didn't take either of them long to find completion, and they both screamed out, not caring that the bedroom window was opened to the world, letting in the sweet gentle breeze of a hot August night. As if in acknowledgement of the energy they were releasing, they heard a rumble of thunder off in the distance.

Charles gave one more powerful thrust, and Margaret went limp, collapsing onto his sweaty chest. The heat was so intense, they thought they would burst into flame. She lay her head on his chest, still covering him, panting against his flesh.

After a few moments, Charles felt her murmur against him, "I told you I was too tired for this, Mister!"

He chuckled as lightning lit the sky, shining blindingly into the dimly lit room. The crash of thunder followed a few seconds later.

Margaret gasped, looking outside. She ran to the window, slamming it shut.

"Margaret! Why'd you do that, there was a lovely breeze coming in!"

She looked down shyly, "I'm... I'm scared of storms, Charles. The crashing thunder scares me. Like the artillery did in Korea, remember?"

"Ah, yes, my love, I'm sorry I didn't think of that, or I would have closed it myself. Come here, I won't let any lightning or thunder get you!"

She laughed and climbed under the sheet they were using for a cover. It was simply too hot for more. Safely in his arms, his hand gently stroking her head, she collapsed against him, almost instantly asleep.

(Postscript: The chapter title is from a Lord Byron poem, "Don Juan: Canto the Second.") 


	12. The Berkshires

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" 

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter Twelve. The Berkshires.

(Author's Note: It's the remainder of their honeymoon, so borderline M again.)

By the time Charles pulled onto Winchester Road in Warwick, Massachusetts, Margaret had decided she'd enjoy living in this state. She'd seen it before, as a child, traveling on the main roads to visit the Fullers, but not as intimately as she had that morning, driving to the Winchester summerhouse.

Charles had pointed out interesting sites, both natural and manmade, along the way as they drove deeper into the state. He was especially enamored of Mt. Grace, so close to his family's summer home, and told Margaret how he, Honoria and their parents would go hiking and camping on the mountain when they were younger.

"Your parents don't strike me as the camping types, Charles!"

He laughed at her response. "They don't, do they? But we had a favorite site we'd often visit, just the four of us, for days on end. It was rather remarkable, really, now that I look back on it. Mother and Father would use the time to get closer, and to get to know Honoria and me better."

"It's nice you've got those memories, Charles, like when you said how your family would leave anonymous gifts at the orphanages."

He sighed and smiled, "Yes, I may complain about my father at times, but he did instill special memories in Honoria and me as we grew." He looked to Mt. Grace, which to his perception was towering over them.

"Aren't the mountains here incredible, Margaret?" he asked, trying to admire the scenery and drive at the same time.

Margaret had to chuckle. Mountains? Foothills more like, she thought, but he was having such a grand time she didn't want to deflate that.

"Darling, you have to remember, I was born in California and have lived in a lot of western states. These aren't really all that big compared to, say, the Sierra Nevadas."

"Yes, I suppose so. But they are lovely, nevertheless."

"Oh, most definitely!" she agreed. She couldn't deny that, the way the gentle hills rolled around the road that had been built between them. The countryside was endearingly beautiful, and she could understand why so many famous artists and writers had retreated to the Berkshires. The area seemed to attract creative types, Charles said, people who simply wanted to enjoy the beauty of Nature without disturbance.

"They have that attitude around here, one reason my family visits regularly. They know us, of course, and they let us be on the most part. Mother and Father enjoy the escape from the goings-on of Boston society and Wall Street tensions. Honoria enjoys visiting the little shops run by local artists, and going to the various reading circles that crop up during the summer months. Having majored in literature, this is one of her favorite places, knowing that the likes of Melville and Fitzgerald used to come here for retreat."

Margaret hadn't missed the street sign as he turned down the long road. "Winchester Road?"

He smiled, "Yes, this is our road. We've owned the property here for many, many years, long before I was born, so the county simply gave it our name. All one has to do is write a post to our family, Winchester Road, Warwick Mass., and it'll get to us."

Having been raised on Army bases, Margaret found this remarkable. It must be nice having somewhere that your family had been rooted for so long. She knew her mother's family was from Connecticut, and had been there for centuries. For her, this was almost like coming home. She'd come to Boston to be with her husband and the father of her child, and here she would remain. It felt peculiar, knowing she'd soon be out of the Army for good; that's all she'd known her entire life! She made a point to get back in touch with her mother's family to the south, soon, or perhaps after the baby came.

She gasped when Charles pulled into the inner driveway, rounding the bend to see the summerhouse in all its charm and beauty. It was more like a huge cottage, certainly not as grand as the mansion in Boston, on Beacon Hill. It was apparent that the gardeners employed by the Winchesters had been there recently, to tidy up the outside for the visiting Winchester son and his new wife. Other than the immaculate yard and garden, there was no evidence that anyone had been there recently.

Charles went to her door and opened it, taking her hand to help her out. He smiled at her as she scanned the area, taking in the beauty and fragrance of the surrounding gardens.

"Charles, this is LOVELY! I can't think of a more beautiful spot for our honeymoon!"

"Yes, I always enjoy coming here, it's so peaceful and tranquil. Let's haul all of the luggage and gear into the house before we settle in to relax."

She stretched her muscles, stiff from the drive, and followed him to the trunk of the car. He wouldn't permit her to carry much, of course, so she'd take a little at a time and set it by the front door, returning for another armload.

By the time they got everything in and arranged to their liking, and the groceries Rogers had packed for them put away, Margaret was beginning to feel fatigued.

"Charles, how long is this going to go on? I'm not used to getting so tired so easily!"

"Probably another three or four weeks. The fatigue generally goes away for everyone. It's the nausea and queasiness that may sometimes stay the entire pregnancy."

"Oh, dear, I hope I'm not that type of woman!"

He led her to the bedroom he always used to settle her down for a nap. He looked around approvingly, noting the staff had been there to get everything in order for them. His family used a local service to get the home ready before each visit, and they had done their usual exemplary job.

After she'd gone to the bathroom to freshen up, he pulled the light cover back and encouraged her to lie down. He settled down next to her, stroking her hair as she faced away from him, their bodies spooned together. She was asleep within minutes.

Margaret awoke a few hours later, the sun past its zenith. She didn't hear Charles, and wandered into the kitchen area, looking around.

"Charles?" she called. She went to the dining room and found a note.

"My darling,

I've driven into town to pick up a few things and to greet old acquaintances. I should be back well before sunset.

Your loving husband,

Charles"

She took the opportunity to explore the huge cottage while he was gone. She found the small room they used for a library (she'd never seen a family so surrounded by books as the Winchesters), and found a collection of poems by W. B. Yeats. She fixed herself a cold beverage and returned to the library, settling into the overstuffed chair by the window. She propped the window open, which allowed the lavendar fragrance outside to blow in on the gentle breeze. Ah, lavendar, she thought. It was her favorite.

She was enjoying the books so much that she was startled when she heard the car pull up. She ran to the door, and Charles was retrieving the items he'd picked up in town from the trunk.

He brought it all in and set it on the counter. There were bags from several different vendors, and her curiosity got the better of her as she poked around. He pulled one off the counter and held it behind his back.

"This is a surprise!" he declared, smiling.

She laughed and made a grab for him, trying to get a peek at what shop it had come from. He'd snatched it up so quickly she hadn't had a chance to see.

"No, no, you must wait until later, when I show you another portion of the property you've not seen yet!"

She shrugged in concession, knowing she wouldn't get anything out of him. She took care of the fresh fruit and vegetables he'd purchased and looked again at the food choices they had.

"So, I get to cook for you finally?" she asked.

"Hmmmmm... CAN you cook?"

"Well..." she thought, wondering how she should answer. "It has been a long, long time, Charles, you must admit. Steak and salad I can cook!"

He laughed, "All right, sweetheart, steak and salad it is. I am certain I can find the appropriate wine for the occasion!"

They worked together to prepare their meal, enjoying the closeness of such a domestic task. Charles fussed over the steaks while Margaret cut up the vegetables for the salad.

After the simple but satisfying dinner, Charles led Margaret outside for a walk around the grounds. The sun had settled behind Mt. Grace, but it was still light enough to follow the path through the garden. The night sounds of the surrounding woods started, lending additional charm to the area. As it got darker, Charles led Margaret back to the house, knowing the way intimately, dark or not.

He continued with her to their room and took out her smaller suitcase. He opened it and took out her two-piece bathing suit, handing it to her.

"We're going swimming? In the dark?"

"No, it won't be dark. You'll see." He took out his own swimming trunks and they both changed. He loved seeing her in the bathing suit, a dark royal blue that enhanced her blue eyes. He couldn't resist and put his hand on her belly, protruding slightly over the waistline of her swim suit.

"You look beautiful, Margaret," he whispered as he kissed her neck.

"You just wanted to touch my tummy again," she laughed, leaning into his kiss.

"You're not tired, are you, my love?"

"Not at all. I'm glad we took that little walk, though, to settle that big steak in there!"

"Yes, we don't want to be overfull tonight, now do we?"

He led her into the kitchen area, sitting her down in the chair. "Now, you must wait here, while I go prepare something! No following and no peeking, all right?"

She laughed, at a loss as to what he was planning. "All right, darling."

"I'll be back in a few minutes." He reached up for the bag he'd placed out of her reach and went through the back door that led to the patio.

Moments later, he came back via the same route.

"All right, it's ready, follow me, darling."

He took her hand, and they headed to a small building a short distance from the main house.

"What is this, Charles?"

He smiled, "You'll see."

The building had huge wide windows, and as they approached, Margaret heard the splashing of water. He opened the door for her, and she stopped at the entrance, her eyes and mouth wide with wonder.

It was a small pool, at the end of which was a waterfall, surrounded by lush indoor plants and cascading to the deeper end of the pool. Charles' surprise had been to carefully place candles around the pool house, giving the area a soft subtle glow. She sniffed the air and could smell lavendar once more, then noticed sprigs of the flower sprinkled throughout the room. He'd placed some by each candle so the heat of the flame would circulate the air and the lovely fragrance.

The candles, fragrance, greenery and waterfall gave it an other-worldly effect, leaving Massachusetts behind to create their own private Eden.

She put her hands to her mouth as she stepped forward. "Charles, it's BEAUTIFUL!"

He put his arm over her shoulder and drew her to him, kissing her cheek.

"I must confess, Margaret, that this has been my fantasy since I was a lad, and thought of such things as girls. I would come in here, in the dark, with the Full Moon shining in as it is tonight. I would float on my back, listening to the water cascading down. I would dream of being here with the girl of my dreams, swimming naked at the deep end, the eddies of the water swirling around us," he whispered as he led her to the bench, already laden with fluffy warm towels and robes.

"Now, I am here, after all these years, with the girl of my dreams," he said, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. His hand moved to the strap of her suit, running under it. She wrapped her hands around him, feeling under the waist of his trunks, gripping him and pulling him to her.

"Hmmmm," she moaned as they kissed. She pulled away abruptly and ran for the pool, letting out a screech as she curled herself into a ball.

"CANNONBALL!" she yelled.

"MARGARET!" Charles screamed behind her, copying her and curling into a ball as well just before he hit the water.

Margaret came up spluttering and laughing as the wave from his splash hit her square in the face. She slowly started flopping and dogpaddling to the shallow end, laughing so hard she could hardly keep her head above water. She looked behind her and screeched once more as Charles started gaining on her.

"NO!" she screamed, diving under the water so she could move faster.

Her shorter arms and legs were no match for him, and he soon caught her, grabbing her ankle underwater and yanking her up and over. She hit the water right next to him, and he pulled her to him, holding her over the arms so she couldn't get away.

She struggled like a caught mermaid, laughing and preventing him from planting a kiss on her mouth. Still holding her arms down, Charles' hands moved down her back to the swimsuit bottoms, and slipped into the back, gripping her flesh.

Margaret stopped her struggles and went limp in his strong arms, enjoying the feel of floating there, feet not touching, while he held her up. He loosened his vise-like grip, and she reached for his shoulders, lifting her legs to wrap around his hips. He put his hands under her to hold her up. The buoyancy of the water made it obvious to them what they should do next.

Charles moved to where he knew Margaret could stand, the waterline right under her breasts. He was so much taller than she that the water came to his waist. As he'd done the night before, he slowly removed her top.

He enjoyed the play of flickering candlelight on her, reflecting off her shiny fair skin. His hands cupped her as he leaned down to kiss in between. He moved his mouth over to one breast to give caresses while his hand was busy with the other, then switched sides. While teasing her with his lips and teeth, his hands moved to her backside, going lower to grip her, pulling her ever closer to him. It didn't take him long to slip the bathing suit completely off of her, and she reciprocated by pulling his trunks off while his mouth worked furiously at her tender skin.

"Charles," she muttered, her head back, her hands gripping the back of his head to her.

"Yes, my love?" he asked, trying to remember not to speak with his mouth full.

"Is this water all right, Charles? For us to make love in? It won't hurt the baby or give me an infection, will it?"

"No, my sweet, I've already checked, while you were sleeping."

She laughed, feeling the pull of him deep inside. "I should have known you would think of that."

"Of course." He finally released her breast, standing up to face her once more.

She looked down at herself, and felt around. "Is it wise for you to do that, Charles? I really felt it inside me, DEEP inside. It won't trigger contractions at this stage, will it?"

He stood straighter and put his serious "Dr. Winchester" face on. "Would you like the scientific lecture on it, Margaret?"

"Yes, please, as a refresher and as reassurance."

"Very well." He began explaining it to her, what was going on with her body at this stage and what to expect in the coming months. She'd learned all this in nursing school, of course, but coming from an exceptional physician as her husband was, and being pregnant now, it was reassuring. She had to know all was well with their water play, and indeed all the love-making they'd been doing for weeks.

"So, you see, it's actually a beneficial thing to you and the baby. Making love as we do," and he couldn't help but smirk with pride, "is quite a physical workout, after all is said and done, Margaret. Strengthens your inner muscles in preparation for birth, months from now."

She let the water boost her as she jumped into his arms, him catching her easily and holding her. "I'll bet it's even BETTER in the water, it can hold me up!"

"Yes, that's what I had in mind," he said, resuming the kiss.

Still holding tightly to his shoulders, Margaret leaned back, her hair brushing against the water. Charles gasped at the sight of her, her breasts rising prominently, enticing him to lean down and take another nibble on her. He pulled a nipple into his mouth, softly and delicately at first. Her reaction encouraged him as he latched onto her, pulling her ever-closer with his hand on the small of her back. He teased and tormented her with teeth and tongue; she reacted by moving her pelvis over him. He was just short of slipping into her that very second, but wanted to wait, to bring her pleasure before giving in to his own.

Leaving one hand supporting her lower back, he slipped his fingers over her thigh, sliding them into her to find her most delicate of spots. She raised her head up to face him, gasping, watching him as his mouth continued to work voraciously at her nipple.

"Charles," she whispered, moving her hips, trying to put herself on top of him. As she manipulated her pelvis and legs, trying to gain access, he teasingly would move in response away from her, denying her silent request.

His mouth and fingers continued working on her as she began to writhe on him, his strong hand still holding her to him.

He pinched and tweaked the hard little button below, as he bit and sucked on her, overwhelming her with such sensation from two different quarters. Her thrashing about was driving him insane, and she screamed out his name, the sound echoing over the rush of the waterfall.

"Oh, Margaret," he moaned against her breast, kissing and nibbling on it. He slowly moved his mouth to the other breast to pay it equal attention.

"Charles, PLEASE!" she begged, almost pathetically, desperate to have him in her. "Please, darling, I need you in me!"

He pulled her head up to him so he could nuzzle her ear and neck, whispering into her ear, "I'm going to take you, Margaret, in good time, my sweet. I want to drive myself into you, hard, fast, like that night in Tokyo in the shower, remember?"

Her answering moan and movement of pelvis told him his answer. His voice in her ear was driving her insane as he murmured everything he was going to do to her. He'd never engaged in such talk before, and it blew fire through her. She didn't know how much longer she could stand it!

As he continued to whisper to her, his free hand grasped her at the throat, holding her to him. It slowly moved down, caressing her neck and shoulder, then moved to her breast, tweaking her hard little nipple.

"I want to suck on you, Margaret, tease you and bite you," he said, his finger pinching her painfully, driving the sensation like a knife through her. She gasped and writhed in his strong arms.

"CHARLES, PLEASE!" she begged.

His fingers continued down and once again found her inner spot, and teasing her with his thumb, he drove three fingers into her at the same time and she let out the loudest screech he'd heard from her yet as she climaxed a second time.

Charles had almost reached his breaking point when he heard that primal scream, reaching into him so powerfully. As always, her response to his attentions enflamed him, and it was all he could do to not slam her down onto him that very second.

But he was patient and wanted to enjoy this most unusual opportunity of the buoyant water. He hoisted her up easily, burying his face between her slick breasts, the skin sliding over his own as he moved back and forth between them. He drew one erect nipple into his mouth, pressing her into him with his strong hands on her back. Margaret held the back of his head, helping to push him into her, moaning as the tugging pulled all the way to her loins.

Again she pled with him, "Charles, please my love, I need you in me!"

The sound of her, the screeching and pleading, the warmth of the water, the sensual feel of it lapping against him was finally too much for Charles. He was engorged as he'd never been before, wondering if Margaret could even take him. He slowly and carefully, almost teasingly, began to lower her down on him. He had just barely entered her and stopped, continuing to nibble and suck on her.

She thrust her hips, almost angrily, being denied her pleasure. He lowered her a little more, gradually, feeling her inner muscles move and slip around him so tightly, evoking a groan as his arms and hands resisted the urge to push her onto him.

"Margaret, my love," he murmured around her swollen nipple, continuing the tongue-and-teeth teasing.

She had gone beyond pleading with him, all she could do was writhe over him in sweet agony and anticipation. She'd never felt him in her like this, and realized why he was taking his time.

"Charles... you won't hurt me, I promise!"

She squeezed him with her inner muscles to demonstrate and convince him. It worked. He lifted her up powerfully, with the help of the warm water, and slammed her onto him like a piledriver. She screamed again in response, gripping him to her once more.

She held her hands between shoulders and biceps, feeling the muscles move underneath as he did the work, moving her up and down on his length, his eyes closed as he relished the feel of her tightness around him. She loved to watch his face as he lost himself, and she looked at him in the candlelight. He had one of those builds that was deceptive; he didn't look very powerfully built, but she could tell from the play of muscles in his chest, shoulders and arms that he was much stronger than he appeared. She felt tiny in his big hands as he pushed her down over and over.

She wasn't aware of it at first, but she realized, as she consciously looked around, that he'd been slowly walking them to the edge of the pool. He slowed his up and down motions for a moment, still in her, holding her throat to his mouth while he bit at her flesh.

He set her down on the edge of the pool, leveled perfectly with him, and grabbed her lower back, pulling her toward him as he thrust into her once more.

She leaned back, angling herself to him better. She put her hands on the concrete floor and he grabbed her hips for the final thrusts. Before he reached his own climax, his big hands spread across the top of her thighs, his thumbs teasing her as he moved in and out of her, stimulating her into one more climax. He leaned forward, holding her painfully as he cried out her name, the eruption of light sending him over the edge in one more powerful thrust.

He released her hips, still leaning forward, his hands planted on both sides of her. He lowered his head over her, panting. While he was there, looking down at her little belly, seeing himself in her, he took one more chance to lean a little further and kiss her tenderly.

"My love," he whispered against her. "My baby love."

She smiled at him, resting her hand on the back of his neck.

"Charles, is that bucket over there by the bench champagne? I could use a small glass of it."

He looked up, his skin flushed in the candlelight, blue eyes shining with the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Yes, my sweet, I would love a glass!"

She slowly pulled herself away from him and stood, stretching. He enjoyed the moment, looking at her from that angle. He swam over to the deep end to enjoy the splashing water around him as she fetched their drinks.

He pulled himself up on the edge and she joined him under the waterfall, the greenery of the plants surrounding them.

Her eyes lit up as she saw the entire thing from that angle. Surrounded by water and plants made it feel as if they were on another world.

"Too bad the floor here is so rough, this would be an incredible place to make love!"

He looked around as well, smiling. "You're right, it would. Perhaps we can find a remedy to the rough concrete floor before the honeymoon's over!"

Which is what they did the next day. Suitably covered, they discovered it was, indeed, a wonderful place to make love, and so they did throughout the week. Charles would have been embarassed if his parents and sister had known all the different places and positions they'd tried throughout the family property! They even found an appropriate pile of boulders in their woods, in a nice patch of dappled sunlight, the heat and humidity of the hot August afternoon fueling their own fire as they shared again the love they felt for one another.

Their honeymoon ended too soon, they felt, but it was time again to re-join civilization. They packed the car, got the remainder of their personal items and Charles scanned the summerhome one more time. He'd contact their people in the little town to have them come clean it once more, in preparation for the next family visit.

He sighed as he locked the door behind him, Margaret already waiting in the car for him. She saw him take one final survey around the outer perimeter of the house and the surrounding gardens and yards.

He smiled at her as he got behind the wheel. He leaned over to kiss her. "Margaret, this past week has added yet more happy memories of this place for me! It's been marvelous!"

"Yes, sweetheart, it has. And I think it's safe to say that if I wasn't already pregnant, I certainly would be NOW, the way we've gone at it!"

He laughed as he started the car. He hoped twenty, thirty, forty years from now, when they'd visit this place, they would still be going at it.

(Author's Note: The next chapter is going to conclude this particular ATC, from the C/M POV as I've stated in my summary. By the time Ch. 13 happens, Charles and Margaret will have tendered their resignations to the US Army. Trapper John will have had a chance to work with Charles, observing him in surgery, and will come to the conclusion that their skills are equally brilliant. Honoria and Trapper will still be dating, taking their time as Trapper knows the Winchesters would expect. He has every intention of asking for her hand in marriage, properly of course. He can be a gentleman when he has to be, having grown up in Boston and attended Harvard himself. Just as those at the 4077th learned over time about Charles, Trapper has learned Honoria can be quite fun and funny, which has only served to bring them closer.)


	13. Master Charles Emerson Winchester IV

"Visions of the Things to Be: An After-the-Credits of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen"

THE FIRST YEAR: 1953-1954

Chapter 13. Master Charles Emerson Winchester IV.

Margaret smacked Pierce's hand away.

"Go away, Pierce, let me die in my misery!" she wailed.

"Come on, Margaret, you need to take this!" He tried again to get her to take the vitamin and mineral formula her obstetrician and Charles had worked out for her pregnancy. "For the BABY," he stressed.

"This baby is getting all he or she needs, from ME!"

At her seventh month she'd begun exhibiting signs of severe anemia, with the associated fatigue and pallor. Charles was the first one to notice it and had rushed her to the Emergency Department of Boston Mercy, where Margaret had been working for the last three months.

Her OB and her husband both agreed that she should go on indefinite maternity leave and remain at home, preferably in bed. Charles knew how unlikely THAT would be, but he tried.

A week before her due date, he'd called their friend Hawkeye Pierce to come stay with her, if he could take the time away from his own patients in Maine.

"I'll take the time, Charles," he said from Crabapple Cove. "I don't even want to think about Margaret being alone and going into labor, or even worse, hemorrhaging from the severe anemia or lack of clotting factor, with nobody home! Besides, I certainly don't want to miss the birth of your baby!"

Charles sighed in great relief. If Pierce wasn't able to come, he would have asked McIntyre, being an acquaintance of Margaret's at the 4077th before Charles' own arrival there. Given a choice, however, he wanted someone they both knew extremely well.

Pierce knocked on the mansion's main entrance, suitcase in one hand, medical bag tucked under one arm. He asked Rogers if there was someone who could bring in the additional medical supplies he'd brought along, just in case.

"Certainly, sir, I shall get someone to assist you immediately. You will find Dr. Winchester and Dr. McIntyre on the patio. May I get you a beverage, sir?"

"No, thank you," he said, smiling as he entered the foyer. "I'm sure Dr. Winchester has beverage enough."

"Very good, sir."

Hawkeye found Trapper and Charles playing chess, each sipping a fine German beer.

"Hey, Hawk!" Trapper waved as he concentrated on the move Charles had just made.

"Hello, Pierce. You have arrived in time to see me beat McIntyre in chess."

Hawkeye went to view their game, taking a beer from the cooler set under the table by their feet.

Trapper harumphed and leaned back in his chair. "Let's see, this is the fifth game, and I've won three. I'd say the odds are in my favor, Charles. At least the fifth game today."

He looked at a pad of paper. Hawkeye looked too, curious.

"What's that?"

Charles tapped it, "THAT is our running total of who's won how many games. I am determined that I've got to be better at SOMETHING over McIntyre!"

Hawkeye had to laugh. Charles and Trapper were both rather chagrined, and had to reluctantly admit, that they were equally skilled in thoracic surgery. They'd both attended Harvard and both graduated valedictorian. Charles had been certain he could best McIntyre at chess, so early on he'd kept in his own head how many games won and loss between the two. By the tenth game, it was becoming obvious that this, too, was another area in which neither excelled.

Hawkeye sat in a lounge chair nearby, kicking up his feet and swigging his beer. He pointed to Charles.

"I know one thing, Charles! You've got him beat in pomposity!"

Trapper barked out a laugh and made a move.

Charles looked at the game and groaned. "PIERCE! You're distracting us!"

Trapper laughed, "He's not distracting me in the slightest, Winchester."

Charles scowled and re-examined the board, taking the last move into consideration. A few moments later, he reached over and toppled his King, conceding the game to Trapper.

Trapper handed the pencil to Charles. "Here, as loser, YOU get to tally MY win!"

"Oh, that's how it works. How humiliating, Charles!" Pierce crowed.

"No comments from the Peanut Gallery," Winchester replied.

Hawkeye looked around. "So, where's Margaret? HOW'S Margaret?"

Margaret was in bed. Still. Her due date had come and gone.

"Margaret, come on, for the baby."

"It makes me nauseous, Pierce!"

He quietly held the big pill and glass of water. He'd wait her out if he had to.

She seemed to sense this and took the pill, washed it down and handed the glass back to Hawkeye.

"I need to get up, get outta here," she grumbled.

"Did you need help?"

"I can go to the bathroom, Pierce, I'm not wounded!"

He moved back, but refused to leave until he saw her close the bathroom door behind her. He was getting concerned; the baby had dropped into position weeks before, and it was obvious from the shape of her big belly that she'd been having contractions. They must not be too severe, he thought, if she hadn't cried out.

Hawkeye went to the hallway intercom. Charles and his parents had insisted on putting them in throughout the mansion in case Margaret had to call someone for help.

He felt strange using them, such new technology! He pushed the "Speak" button, and queried, "Honoria?"

He waited a moment and heard her response.

"Yes? Where are you, Hawkeye?"

"In the hall outside of Margaret's room. She went to the bathroom, but I..." and he looked behind him, "I suspect she's been having minor Braxton-Hicks contractions today, and not telling me or Charles. Can you come up here and check on her? She only went in a moment ago, but I'd like you here if you could."

Honoria was there in minutes, breathing hard. "Sometimes I think this house is j-j-just too darned b-big!"

He laughed and agreed, leading her into Margaret's room.

Honoria tapped on the door. "Margaret? Are you all right?"

They heard a panting sound from within. "H-h-honoria, where's H-hawkeye? It's...it's time, I think!"

Honoria tried the door and went in, just as Margaret collapsed partway to the floor, her arm hanging onto the sink, her hand clutching her lower belly.

"HAWKEYE!" Honoria yelled, "G-get in here!"

He ran in, helping Margaret to stand. Honoria went to take Margaret's other arm, and slipped, landing hard on the tiled floor.

Hawkeye looked down and groaned when he saw the fluid on the floor. "Uh, Honoria, are you okay? C'mon, we've got to get her into bed."

The two of them managed to get Margaret comfortable. Hawkeye ran back into the bathroom to look at the floor once more. In the clear amniotic fluid that had burst forth, he saw streaks and clots of blood.

He motioned to Honoria to stay with her and ran into the hall to the phone he knew was there. He called for an ambulance, and once confirmation had been received that it had been dispatched asked to be transferred to Dr. Winchester.

"Winchester."

"Charles, she's coming into the ER shortly, they've already sent the ambulance for her," Hawkeye exclaimed, talking fast enough where he didn't leave Charles a chance to interrupt. "Charles, STAY THERE, she's going to need you, she's going to need her OB there."

Charles leaned back heavily into his chair. He was terrified to ask, but he had to know. "Pierce, is...is there a problem?"

When Hawkeye didn't immediately reply, assuring him all was well, Charles knew his answer.

"Charles...there was blood in the amniotic fluid. Not a LOT, mind you, there were streaks and small clots throughout, like it hadn't come from any specific area internally. I don't think it's abruptio or previa."

OH GOD, no, Charles thought, feeling a wave of panic come on. Pierce had been right to order him to remain at the hospital. He could do nothing for her and the baby if he tried to go home. The ambulance could get there and back faster with lights and sirens blaring.

"I-I'll call her OB, Pierce, and wait for her in the ER."

"Charles...Charles, I'm sure it'll work out okay, we caught her right when it happened. It was only minutes ago. I'll do what I can from here until we get her in there. I'll be in the ambulance, wait for us!"

He hung up.

Charles put his head in his hands and took a calming breath as he'd learned from Honoria. It seemed to help somewhat.

He got up to find McIntyre.

Trapper looked up to see Charles coming into the Doctors' Lounge. The look on Winchester's face spoke volumes.

Trapper stood up, going to Charles. "What's wrong? Margaret?"

"She's coming into the ER shortly. Pierce already called the ambulance."

"Well, that's great, Charles!" Trapper smiled, motioning for him to go to the door. His smiled slowly melted away when he realized Charles was not overjoyed about his pregnant wife coming in.

"Is something wrong, Charles?"

"Blood in the fluid."

"Oh, God, no, Charles!" He put his hand on Charles' shoulder, not saying anything.

"I needed to talk to someone, McIntyre, which is why I sought you out. Can you take the time to wait in the ER with me, until Margaret and Hawkeye show up?"

"Yes, certainly, let's get down there. You could consider yourself on leave now, if you'd like, and I'll take over the department, like when you two got married."

"That would be wise, yes. I-I find I cannot think right now, I'm just...just..." He couldn't finish.

They reached the door to the stairs down, that led to the ER.

Trapper went to the ambulance bay to wait while Charles called Margaret's OB.

Charles joined Trapper outside, leaning against the railing with him.

"One good thing from all this: Dr. Mendel is already here at the hospital. He'll be here shortly."

Neither said a word for a few moments, their ears straining for the sounds of an ambulance siren getting closer.

"She's strong, Charles, and has a doctor with her already. It couldn't be any better than that. I'm sure things will be fine!"

Dr. Mendel burst through the door the other two had exited previously, breathing from running down the stairs.

"Anything yet?"

As if in answer, they heard the siren of the ambulance getting closer. Within seconds it was parked and Margaret was wheeled to the labor and delivery room.

Charles, Trapper and Hawkeye couldn't help but hover around as Dr. Mendel and the OB nurses on his staff went into action. He finally motioned the three to gown up, if they were going to be loitering in the OB surgical suite.

The anesthetist put Margaret into a type of twilight sleep, where she was semi-conscious but could not feel pain. Charles alternated between talking softly to her, knowing she could hear, and going to observe Mendel.

Charles looked up from wiping sweat off Margaret's face when the obstetrician said his name. The man was smiling and stood up.

"Doctor?"

"It's not as serious as we thought, Charles. When the mucus plug came loose, it had caused some minor bleeding. It's not too uncommon. Not having seen the fluid, I couldn't say if that's what it was. I was hoping, but didn't want to get your own hopes up if it was more serious."

He pointed down. "We've cleaned her up, so if it's what you two want, we can stop the anesthesia and you and she can bring your baby into the world together!"

Charles smiled behind his mask, his blue eyes sparkling with joy finally.

"That would be excellent, Doctor."

Over the next hour Margaret slowly came back to consciousness, the anesthesia working its way out of her body. She looked around.

"Got a crowd in here!" she exclaimed, sounding more like herself. Then the first real contraction hit, and she almost doubled over.

Charles talked her through it, telling her to do Honoria's calming breaths, over and over.

Margaret glared at Hawkeye and Trapper, who were still at the other end with Dr. Mendel, watching her show.

"You...two...goons do NOT need to be down there!" she yelled.

Charles smiled at his wife and turned to her two friends. "Yes, gentlemen, why don't you two come down here to talk to her, and I'll be there to catch the baby!"

The hard labor continued for two more hours, a blessedly short amount of time for a first-time mother. Trapper and Hawkeye took turns holding her hand and fetching her ice chips to soothe her parched throat and mouth.

"AH, Margaret, that one did it, the head's crowning!" Charles yelled. He looked to Mendel, who nodded silently that all was progressing well.

Mendel told Margaret, "I'm willing to bet three or four more pushes and you'll be done, Margaret! Go with it, when your body tells you to push, then PUSH!"

Pierce and McIntyre held a hand each as she bent forward, letting her body's muscles bear down.

First push. "The head's completely out, Margaret!"

The OB nurse was there with a bulb for Charles to clear away the mucus and fluid from the baby's mouth and nostrils.

Second push. "The shoulder's out, Margaret!"

Mendel told Margaret, "Once the first shoulder is out, the rest of the baby can slide on through."

"I...KNOW...that, Doctor," she panted.

He laughed, "I'm not used to being surrounded by doctors and delivering a nurse!"

Third push. "There's the other shoulder," Charles exclaimed as he gently eased the baby along, now that he could grip him or her. He was steadying the head and supporting the little neck.

Mendel was leaning close, watching Charles deliver his own baby. "You're doing fine, Charles, just fine."

Fourth push. Margaret squeezed Hawkeye's and Trapper's hands one final time, encouraging the bearing-down sensation, screaming out. "CHARLES! Did that do it?"

Charles was glad he'd had both hands supporting the baby, because with the last push the remainder of the amniotic fluid swooshed forth, along with the baby.

He quickly and very gently turned the baby over, propping him on his long forearm and his large hand, and massaged the baby's back. The OB nurse leaned in to clear away any additional fluids coming out of mouth and nose, and the baby coughed, then cried with gusto.

Margaret gasped when she heard that beautiful sound.

Charles held the baby up, still attached to the umbilical cord, for Margaret to see.

"Margaret, my love, we have a SON!"

Margaret was laughing and crying at the same time, looking at her newborn baby and the look on Charles' face as he proudly held his son up for all to see. The nurse moved in with the clamps and scissors, and a small table, and Charles cut the umbilical cord. He handed the baby to the nurse for a moment so she could perform her tasks.

Trapper and Hawkeye each kissed Margaret's cheeks, and turned to Charles, clapping him on the shoulders in congratulations.

The nurse returned quickly, the newborn baby wrapped snugly in a blanket and wearing a little tiny cap on his head.

"Here you are, Doctor," she said, smiling. "He weighs in at seven pounds, three ounces, and 20 inches long!"

"Can I, Charles?" Margaret asked softly.

He pulled a chair up alongside her, with a pillow to tuck under her arm for support, and handed her their son. He leaned in to talk softly to his wife, cooing at his minutes-old baby.

Dr. Mendel leaned down and whispered to Charles, "I'll be back in a few minutes, so we can finish up."

Charles nodded his head, not saying anything. He only had eyes and ears for his family.

Hawkeye and Trapper followed the obstetrician out, so the three could have some bonding time.

Charles rubbed his finger along the baby's cheek, causing the infant to turn toward him. He couldn't help but laugh. He put the tip of his pinky finger, now cleaned and scrubbed, into the baby's pursed mouth. The baby immediately began to suckle on it, his little jaw working up and down.

Margaret and Charles laughed with such glee, they thought they'd burst with pride.

"Let's see how he does this time, Margaret." Charles touched the baby's little palm with his index finger, and the tiny fingers curled around it, gripping him with a surprising hold.

Charles smiled at his son. He didn't care who saw the tears streaming down his face. Seems like the baby was the only one NOT crying.

Charles leaned toward Margaret.

"Margaret, we made this child in love, and you and I together have brought him into this world with love." He kissed her sweetly on the mouth. "I love you so much."

Fin.

(Author's Note: I'm going to eventually do similar 'first year back' stories with all the main characters. Frank's next, since I've pretty much got him done. His will cover from when he left the 4077th into 1954. It's going to be rather surprising. I cried as I typed it, it's that good! Stay tuned.) 


End file.
